


Don't Let Go

by sussiekitten



Category: Inheritance Cycle - Christopher Paolini
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-23
Updated: 2010-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-14 00:30:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/143341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sussiekitten/pseuds/sussiekitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The past can be a hard thing to let go; especially when it seems to be haunting you wherever you go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of the Past

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I don't own Eragon or anything associated with the Inheritance Cycle.
> 
> The character Aksel Wood that appears in this story is mine. The rest are Paolinis. This story also features my human versions of Saphira and Thorn.

It had all happened so many years ago. A fleeting chance, a choice meeting. A boy that would never leave his mind, a face that would forever haunt him, a past that wouldn’t let go. The memory of yesterday, of a life that could have been. A simple dream. But dreams were meant for dreaming, and life was meant for living. That was the story of Murtagh Morzansson’s life.

\----

Murtagh had been just ten years old when he had met that boy. At ten Murtagh had already developed a colder outer shell, one that he depended on to not show his hurt. His dark hair was longer than most children his age, falling to his chin in a messy state that looked almost cute. His hazel eyes, eyes that should have been full of life and joy were clouded with responsibility. He hardly played and even rarer laughed. He was a unique child, but in a very morose way.

That day had been sunny with just a few clouds from yesterday’s rain. Murtagh had been outside, sitting in a tree and had been watching the world below him. Children like him had been playing and laughing loudly. The summer was showing her true colours with bright flowers and clucking rivers and a soft smell of the summer breeze, even though it was almost August. But Murtagh wasn’t down on the ground playing with everyone else. His hair was in his face that day, hiding the bruise and band-aid from the encounter with his father the previous day. He had forgotten to take out the garbage that night and it now showed.

Murtagh remembered gazing at a pair of children playing below him. A blonde and blue eyed girl was throwing a ball with a brown haired boy. They both looked to be at least three years his junior. Suddenly the ball was thrown off course and rolled to a stop just under Murtagh’s tree. The boy ran to get it.

Murtagh felt the breath leave him once the boy came closer. His brown hair was shorter than Murtagh’s and looked almost blond up close. Two brown eyes seemed to stand out and sparkled of life. He was short; with bruises and a band-aid that Murtagh could see came from playing, not from a broken home. He almost felt jealous of this boy, even if he didn’t know him.

The boy stopped and picked up the ball. Just then, as if he knew Murtagh was there, he looked up. The boy tilted his head to the side and continued to stare at him. Murtagh strangely enough didn’t feel the need to yell at the boy to leave him alone. Before he could say anything however, the boy grinned widely and waved. Murtagh blinked in surprise. Then the boy was gone, running back to his friend to resume playing. Ten minutes later the pair was gone from the playground. Murtagh was left to walk home in solitude.

\----

The next time Murtagh saw the boy was the following week. He hadn’t been at the playground until that day, not feeling the urge to see others be happy when he wasn’t. But that something had almost lured him there, and so he had seen the boy again.

He wasn’t alone that time either; the girl from last time and another boy was with him. The other boy had blond hair as well, but with more band-aids than the brown haired one and an even larger grin was on his face constantly. The girl was almost constantly walking in the middle of the two boys as they laughed and played together. This time Murtagh was jealous. He didn’t have any friends like that. No one wanted to go near him. Everyone knew of his father and told their kids to stay away from him. It hurt, but it was again something he had learned to put behind his mask.

Murtagh sat down beneath his tree that day; he didn’t really feel like climbing. Instead he started to pick at the grass and think about whatever came to his mind. And so he sat by himself until someone came and threw him off track.

“Hello!”

Murtagh looked up from the ground with a soft frown on his face. No one spoke to him, for who would dare to speak to the son of the dreaded Morzan?

Apparently the new boy did.

“Why ah you sittin’ all by yousself?” the brown haired boy asked with a slight lisp.

“Because I like it here,” Murtagh answered.

“Why? An’t you lonely?”

Murtagh wanted to answer that yes, he was so very lonely, please don’t go! but as always, he put on his mask and found another answer.

“No,” Murtagh replied and continued to pick at the grass.

The boy sat down next to him with a small ‘oof’. Then he titled his head just like he had done the week before. “I don’t believe you! Evyone who’s alone gets lonely!” the boy said with a firm nod.

“I’m used to it. I don’t get lonely anymore,” Murtagh said softly.

The boy pouted softly. “That’s ‘eally sad,” he whispered. “No’ne should be alone all the time.”

Murtagh suddenly felt bad for making the child beside him sad. He felt like he had done something horribly wrong, and that he should fix it right away.

“But you an’t alone anymohe!” the boy said and brightened up instantly. “My name’s E’agon! You can call me Aggie, all my f’iends do!”

Murtagh smiled back a little shyly. He wasn’t really used to smiling and that people were kind to him. “I’m Murtagh.”

The boy’s face lit up. “That’s a ‘eally cool name,” he mumbled in awe.

“You can call me Tag,” Murtagh said, easily understanding that with the boy’s slight lisping and age he wouldn’t be able to pronounce the name without difficulty.

“You ah my new f’iend now!” the brunet said eagerly and leaped to his feet. “Come, let’s play!”

Murtagh, to his own surprise, found himself standing up and walking with the eagerly chatting boy to meet his other friends. Murtagh had never felt quite as happy before as he did just then.

\----

The following month had been pure bliss for Murtagh. The only thing he could remember from it was Eragon and his two friends, whose names were one of the first things he forgot later on. He had remembered their names when Eragon had repeated it the tenth time, but had forgotten them soon after. They weren’t really important to Murtagh, but they were important to Eragon so he pretended to care. No, to him Eragon was the only one that really mattered. He continued to spend a lot of his time with Eragon and quickly started to like the boy more and more. So when his father brutally told him they were moving the next day, Murtagh was heartbroken.

He had gone to see his friend then, still broken and sad. And for the first time in a long while he let his inner feelings show on his face.

“Taggy? Whas w’ong?”

Murtagh bit his lip and made Eragon follow him to the tree they had first met. Then they sat down and Murtagh began to explain.

“No. No, you can’t leave! I won’t let you!!” Eragon said, tears gathering in his eyes as he started to sniffle.

“I’m sorry, Aggie, but my father says we have to move,” Murtagh mumbled quietly.

Eragon sniffled sadly and twisted his hands in his lap. “It’s ‘eally unfaih!” he exclaimed brokenly. “You ah my f’iend. I don’t wanna lose you.”

“I don’t want to leave either, Eragon, but father says we have to.”

The brown haired boy continued to sniffle and cry quietly. Murtagh bit his lip again and hesitantly encircled the smaller boy in his arms. Eragon instantly buried his head into Murtagh’s chest and clenched his fingers in Murtagh’s shirt. The older boy just laid his head on top of Eragon’s and squeezed a little harder.

Time passed until Murtagh had to leave. Eragon cried some more when he realised he would never see Murtagh again.

“You hafta pomise to wite to me!” Eragon said and dried a tear.

“I will,” Murtagh said and patted Eragon’s soft brown hair.

Eragon leaned up then and landed a soft innocent kiss on Murtagh’s cheek. The older boy blushed hotly.

“I’ll miss you, Tag,” Eragon whispered and hugged himself tightly.

“I’ll miss you too,” Murtagh whispered back and walked away.

He turned back when Eragon screamed at him that he had to write, or he’d make sure Santa didn’t get him a present that year. Murtagh replied that he would write, no matter what got in his way.

That was the last time Murtagh saw Eragon.

\----

As they moved away in a hurry Murtagh lost Eragon’s address. Morzan always needed to pack in a hurry so that they could be gone within forty-eight hours for some strange reason. But Murtagh was used to it. A month later Murtagh had forgotten the boy’s real name; he could only remember Aggie’s soft brown hair and sparkling eyes. A year later he could only remember his features.

When Murtagh turned twelve he got his first friends in Therinsford, the second city they had moved to since leaving the boy behind. Their names were Thorn Marron and Nasuada Black. Morzan stated that year that they would be staying in that town and made sure that Murtagh did well in school. And Murtagh could still remember that boy from the past and told his friends of him once, but never again. That boy was like a treasure that he wanted to keep for himself.

Murtagh turned fifteen and that year he realised he was bisexual. He didn’t tell anyone of course. Morzan hated homosexuals with all of his heart and would curse their existence and wish them a messy demise whenever he saw such behaviour on the street. Murtagh, who had gotten very used to Morzan’s violent tendencies, didn’t want to give his father another reason to hit him around and kept quiet. He could still remember that boy however, even if he didn’t think about him as much anymore.

The hazel eyed teen turned sixteen and realised he was in love with someone. He cursed himself when he realised he had fallen in love with a boy he could just vaguely remember the name of, even if his face was as clear as if he had seen him just yesterday. That was the same year he came out to his friends. Nasuada answered with that she had known she was a lesbian since she was thirteen and welcomed him to the club. Thorn just chuckled and said that it would take a lot more to get rid of them.

At seventeen Murtagh started college and hid what he was actually taking from his father. He had long since figured out that Morzan was a criminal, and the only reason they moved around a lot was to hide from the police. So, while Morzan thought his son was studying Law to help him with future ‘problems’, he was actually taking Psychology as his major and Literature on the side. He had then taken the branch that focused on writing and the creation of their own works.

The year he turned eighteen Murtagh had gone through many boys and girls, but he had yet to be in a ‘serious’ relationship. Nasuada had started to date a girl a few months before his birthday, a girl with a wit to match Nasuada’s and with the name Arya Elve. But even if Murtagh had slept with a handful, even though he had made-out and gone second-base with many more than he could count, he was still in love with that boy. He simply wouldn’t leave his mind!

A few days after he turned nineteen, Morzan was arrested with the sentence twenty-one years to life hanging over his head. That was the year Murtagh moved out of the run-down house, stored all his father’s possessions in a warehouse that he paid for with his father’s money, and began the process of starting a new life. He proceeded to move in with Thorn and live a much happier life.

At twenty-one Murtagh had finished his fourth year and would soon begin his last at the college. He had started to work in an entertainment store and quite liked it there. Thorn had gotten a girlfriend the year before, so Murtagh had decided to find a place of his own. He now lived a few blocks between Nasuada and her girlfriend’s apartment, which were still going steady, and Thorn’s. Everything looked to have taken a turn down the right path for him. But there was still one thing that wouldn’t leave Murtagh’s mind. Impossible brown eyes, light brown hair and a heart-stopping smile. The little boy still stayed with him even eleven years later.

\----

“Murtagh, quit daydreaming already!”

Murtagh rolled his eyes and stretched his arms behind his back, the action causing a rather loud crack to merit from his back. Nasuada winced.

“Sorry,” Murtagh said, though he clearly didn’t mean it. “I must have lost myself in the wonders of cliché plotlines.”

Thorn snorted though his eyes never left the screen. They had all come together, something they used to do since they were teens, to watch a movie. Arya had tagged along that day and was looking rather comfortable where she sat next to Nasuada.

Murtagh waited until Nasuada had fixed her eyes back at the screen before proceeding with his thinking. While doing so, he started to look more closely at his friends. Thorn sat slouched on one of the couches in the room, though his slouch didn’t hide the sheer height he had been gifted with. His red hair looked rustier than the average redhead and his eyes could look almost yellow under the some lights. He was strong, easily stronger than two men combined, but underneath his stoic looks he was a kind person and a true friend. At twenty-two he was feared by everyone who hadn’t gotten close enough to look past his tough exterior.

Nasuada and her girlfriend sat on the other couch, both paying attention to the movie. This was no surprise since they had picked it out to begin with. Nasuada had soft chocolate coloured skin which complimented her black hair and dark eyes perfectly. Her hair had been cut recently and reached just below her chin. At twenty-one she was still the shortest of them all, though she had more than once let people know she was not to be messed with. Arya was her opposite and mirror image all at once. Arya had ink-black hair and sparkling green eyes, which often twinkled with mischief. She was taller than Nasuada, but not much, despite being a year younger than her girlfriend. Her hair was often kept shoulder-length and was often tied up. They were both notoriously mischievous, but knew when to stop and would be someone’s friend till the end of time.

Murtagh racked a hand through his hair and sighed. The movie they were watching was ridiculously predictable and way too boring for him. In fact, he could now see that Thorn had fallen asleep. That only proved it.

Ten minutes later he was considered himself bored enough and stood up. “I’m going for a walk,” he stated to the room before grabbing his jacket and walking out the door.

As he shouldered on the leather jacket he sighed to himself. He had been doing that a lot lately, leaving his friends behind wondering about him, giving them more questions to ask than they would ever get an answer to. And he hated himself for it. But there was nothing he could do about it. He was at a loss himself.

It was a cool late-summer night, but the fact didn’t really register to Murtagh. He was much more occupied with other thoughts. Lately his first friend, the little boy from a past he could scarcely remember, had been popping up more than usual. Usually he would think about him whenever he was at a bar and some guy would try to hit on him. But now, now he would think about him almost all the time. And it was driving Murtagh nuts!

“I know you never forget your first crush, but this is ridiculous,” Murtagh mumbled to himself and stuffed his hands even further into his pockets.

He slowed his walk as he came to a park. The wind was playing in the trees, almost mimicking human voices as it went. Murtagh breathed in the air and stepped forward. He hadn’t really been in a park since he had been ten. He had lost interest in them. Neither would have the one he used to come back for, so why bother? Dark brown hair whipped around his face as he walked. But as usual he didn’t care. Nothing really mattered anymore.

As he walked he saw a young woman and man walking together, talking and gesturing with their hands animatedly. Her hair was what captured Murtagh’s attention. It seemed to have been coloured blue in places, mainly her forelock and the hair around her face. But the rest of her hair was a golden yellow. The young man beside her had his hair up in a sort of Mohawk. It was short and had a darker blond colour than his friend. They joked and laughed as they walked pass him.

“Oh, stop it, Aksel! I refuse to listen to you mock me when you have no boyfriend of your own!” the girl said and rolled her eyes.

“It’s not my fault no one captures my attention!” the boy whined with a pout. “I’d take Jailbait, but he’s been a little too emo lately.”

“Oh, don’t let him hear you call him that!” she giggled. “And really, can you blame him? He’s -”

The rest of the conversation was drowned by the wind. Murtagh shook his head and continued to walk. Since when did he care about strangers anyway?

\----

Murtagh looked up from where he had been putting up boxes of the newest in video game. He didn’t really keep track of that stuff, and never cared to remember the names of them unless a costumer asked. He was a little surprised to see Arya walking in the door, a small smile on her face. He returned her wave as she came closer.

“Hey, Tag,” she greeted and adjusted the bag under her arm.

“Hi,” Murtagh put away the last box before brushing off his hands. “What are you doing here?”

Arya crocked an eyebrow at him. Murtagh almost snorted. That was his look after all.

“Can’t I go to see a friend at work?”

“You saw me yesterday,” Murtagh pointed out.

Arya snorted. “I actually didn’t come here to meet you. You haven’t seen a very hyper blond by any chance? He’s just a bit taller than me, a head or so shorter than you,” she asked.

Murtagh frowned. “No, can’t say I have. You can try the second floor; I’ve been busy putting up stuff, I might have missed him.”

“Mhm, good idea. After all, you could have missed Elvis walking through the door with your span of attention,” she said with a small smirk on her lips.

“Just what are you implying?” Murtagh asked dryly.

“That you’ve been a little preoccupied lately. And all Nas does is shake her head and tell me to bear with it,” Arya paused. “Obviously she knows what’s going on.”

“It’s just a phase,” Murtagh said and slid his hands into his pockets. “Happens every summer, just ask Thorn.”

“I have,” the green eyed female replied. “And he says it’s getting worse. I can’t help but to wonder why.”

“Well, unless you can read minds, you can’t help me,” Murtagh said and shrugged. “But work calls. Call me later or something.”

Arya opened her mouth to speak, worry making its way onto her face, but she was interrupted by a loud call of her name.

“ARYA! Yo, over here sis!!”

She turned around and Murtagh could just make out the grin on her face. A blond had just come in the door, and Murtagh had a feeling he looked familiar. Then it hit him, just as he embraced Arya in a big bear hug. The colour of his hair, the strange Mohawk...it was the guy he had seen yesterday.

“This place wasn’t easy to find, yanno. I’m a newbie to this town, remember?” the blond said with a childish pout.

“Oh, stop it, Aksel. You’re so childish sometimes.”

The blond just laughed loudly in answer.

“I didn’t know you had a brother, Arya. And one that’s even crazier than you, at that,” Murtagh commented dryly, picking up the empty carton from the floor and cradling it under his arm.

The stranger’s attention suddenly focused on him. His green eyes, the same shade as Arya’s, narrowed and seemed to search Murtagh before going back to normal.

“Oh, don’t mind Aksel. I heard that he was dropped on his head a lot when he was a baby,” Arya said with a sly smirk.

“I resent that!” Aksel exclaimed. “You’re way more crazy than me, sis.”

Arya snorted disbelievingly.

“Anyhow, the name’s Aksel! Don’t you forget it,” Aksel said and winked.

“Morzansson,” Murtagh replied; he never gave out his first name to strangers, even if they were related to his friends. “But if you guys don’t mind, keep it down? Not all costumers here are crazy or don’t have the mute button installed.”

The blond snorted and turned to Arya. “PMS much?” he asked in a very loud whisper.

Murtagh rolled his eyes and placed the empty carton on top of the register.

“Oh yeah. You’ll get used to it,” Arya said in the same voice.

“I’m going to see more of that?” Murtagh asked, leaning onto the counter. “ _Perfect_.”

To his surprise, Aksel grinned widely instead of looking angered at the insult. “Yeah, baby! You ain’t getting rid of me that easily!”

And with that he walked out of the store. Arya laughed a little awkwardly afterwards. “I’m really sorry. I should have warned you. I usually do,” she said and sighed.

“It’s fine. I survived getting to know you; I think I can survive getting to know your brother,” the hazel eyed man replied nonchalantly.

“I really hope so,” Arya said, her usual half-smirk coming back onto her face. “Because Aksel can be ten times worse than me, and guess what? You have Nas to calm me down, but Aksel doesn’t have someone like that.”

Murtagh cursed under his breath as he watched his friend walk out of the store. He whispered goodbye to his treasured silence for the next few months. He had a feeling he was going to need to get used to having Aksel around.

\----

“So, what’s the deal with Aksel?” Murtagh asked Thorn a few days later. “Do you know why he suddenly showed up?”

“He wants to start at the college here in September,” Thorn answered as he dealt out the cards.

They were in Thorn’s apartment, playing cards as they often found themselves doing. The radio was turned on, but was merely there as background noise. Two beers stood atop of the table as they enjoyed a quiet guys-only night.

“Why here?” Murtagh moaned. “He’s worse than Arya ever was. And she threatened to castrate me more than once.”

“Why was that again?” Thorn asked amusedly.

The dark haired male rolled his eyes. “Either I was being too short with Nas or I was mumbling stuff that she thought was about her and Nas,” Murtagh replied. “Fucking bullshit if you ask me.”

Thorn chuckled. “Even if that was what you were doing?” he asked and studied his cards calmly.

“Well, it wasn’t about them like she thought it was,” Murtagh mumbled and frowned. Great, now he had forgotten what game they were playing. Aksel just lost a couple of more points in his books.

“Yeah, I remember her face when you told her you were bisexual,” the redhead said with a smirk.

Murtagh chuckled as he lowered his cards a notch. “I still treasure that memory. The first and only time I have rendered her speechless.”

Thorn’s smirk widened just barely. “Aksel’s a friend of my girlfriend, actually,” he spoke up a small while later.

Murtagh, who had quickly figured they were playing poker, looked up at this. “Yeah? And speaking of which, when am I going to meet her? You’ve been seeing her for, what, almost two years now? And here I thought I was your best friend,” Murtagh said with a mock-pout.

“Soon enough. She’s been really busy lately. And you know I only get to see her on weekends, when you’re busy enough as it is,” Thorn replied.

“Yeah, she’s a college freshman in Carvahall, isn’t she?” Murtagh commented before laying down his cards proudly. “Eat that, Pyroman.”

Thorn snorted and threw his cards face down onto the table. “Yeah she is,” he replied and started to shuffle the cards anew.

“How did you meet her anyway?” the dark haired male asked, taking another sip of his beer.

“Just by chance. Aksel was visiting Arya and she happened to have tagged along. We just hit it off,” Thorn replied with a half-shrug.

Murtagh couldn’t help but to think of the irony of it. How his friend could make it with his loved one when he couldn’t. But life had never been very kind to him, so it didn’t surprise him all that much. But it hurt nonetheless.

“Hey, what’s her name again? Or did you ever tell me, I forgot.”

The redhead laughed. “It’s Saphira,” he said and snorted. “And yes, I have told you before.”

Murtagh frowned to himself. That name seemed awfully familiar, just like Aksel’s had, but he couldn’t figure out why. And it bugged him to no end.

“Well, you know me. My memory sucks,” Murtagh said and studied his cards to avoid Thorn’s gaze.

“Yes, you always were awful at remembering names. Can’t say the same with faces...”

Murtagh knew where the conversation was going. He hated himself enough for forgetting that boy’s name, or he would have tracked him down years ago. He looked up with a scowl on his face.

“No need to remind me,” he said darkly.

Thorn held up his hands in surrender. “Didn’t mean to make you feel worse. You could ask him, but I know you won’t,” he said carefully.

Murtagh slapped the cards onto the table and stood. “I’ll kill myself long before I ask that man for a favour,” he hissed.

“I know Tag, and I’m not saying you should ask him. But -” the gold eyed male said and laid down his cards as well.

“No, but you were certainly **suggesting** it!” Murtagh spat.

“Murtagh,” Thorn said and narrowed his eyes. “Don’t.”

Murtagh unclenched his hands and grit his teeth. He was sure his face was still red from anger. His father had always been a touchy subject. He took deep and shaky breaths to calm himself. It wasn’t really helping.

“Whatever,” he mumbled and stalked towards the door. “I’m out of here.”

“Tag!” Thorn called after him. “It won’t hurt you to talk about stuff once in a while.”

Murtagh just scowled and slammed the door behind him. As he walked down the street he nearly ran down a blonde girl. He only mumbled an apology before walking away at an even faster pace.

He couldn’t believe himself! Usually it took longer for him to lose his cool, but now he felt like a ticking bomb!

He was so consumed by his anger that he didn’t notice where he was going. He managed to run into a teenager, knocking them both off their feet.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!”

Murtagh mentally cursed his luck as he pushed himself up from the ground. He dusted off the worst dirt from his jeans and turned to look at the person he had knocked down.

It was a teenage boy, whom Murtagh inwardly concluded couldn’t have hit twenty yet. Light, windblown brown hair obscured his eyes from view; eyes Murtagh was sure portrayed the boy’s anger. The boy was picking up the books he had dropped from the ground. Murtagh ran a hand through his hair and picked one of them up. _Freud’s Psychology_. The world truly was a small place.

The darker brunet shook himself from his thoughts. He watched as the younger teen swore under his breath and kept looking in every direction, obviously searching for something.

“I think this belongs to you,” Murtagh said and held out the book for the other to take.

The smaller brunet finally looked up. There was a sour scowl on his lips, and he glared at Murtagh when their eyes met before looking away again. He snatched the book out of Murtagh’s hand without a word.

“I’m...sorry for running into you,” Murtagh forced himself to say, cursing himself inwardly when he heard a slight hesitation in his voice. He had never been good at apologising. Saying that he sucked at it was an understatement.

“Whatever,” the brunet said and fixed the book bag that hung across his torso.

Before Murtagh could say anything else, the brunet had clutched the books to his chest and had taken off. Murtagh found himself staring after him, not even aware of how the anger had completely left him.

\----

Weekend came and Murtagh for once didn’t have to work. The store had been struggling a bit with two employees being sick, but finally one of them had come back the day before. So now Murtagh could finally enjoy some time off from work.

He had gotten up late, something that he rarely did even though it was summer. After finishing his morning routines he had gone to the next stage of his everyday; running. Thorn usually accompanied him, but Thorn had called earlier to say that his girlfriend was in town and that he was going to be busy. He had told Murtagh to stop by if he had the time. Murtagh hadn’t commented on that. He was sure Thorn would much rather he didn’t, so that he could really enjoy some quiet time with his girlfriend. Even if he himself hadn’t been in a relationship, Murtagh knew the little things you treasured in one.

So Murtagh had gone running that Saturday alone. Dressed in his usual black sweatpants and black top, he had strapped on his iPod to his arm before taking off.

He had loved running since he had been a teenager. Whenever Morzan’s temper had been particularly nasty, he had always fled the house. More often than not, his feet had taken him somewhere far away, as far as they could take him. Running kept his mind blank and in the following years he had started to run with music in his ears, to be absolutely sure his mind would stay blank. Running allowed him some quiet time when he didn’t have to think, worry or generally feel at all. The only things he would feel were the ground beneath his feet, the weather, and how his body would eventually tire and become warmer. It was always a satisfying feeling to run and not have to worry about a thing.

A band Murtagh couldn’t quite remember the name of rang in his ears as he started to run. It didn’t quite matter, as long as it kept him running.

He ignored the people around him as he ran. Girls were prone to stare after him, or even try to get him to stop and come over, but no one interrupted his running time. It was the one time he wouldn’t let anyone disturb him.

After running around for nearly a half hour, he came to park that lay in the heart of the city. It was easily bigger than any park he had seen in every city he had lived in. It was a popular place to run and to hang out for the college students. Murtagh recognized a few from his earlier classes, but they didn’t see him and he wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone anyway.

He slowed into a jog as he came closer to the small kiosk he always stopped by. He sat down by the bench just beside the kiosk. The young woman that tended to it looked up and grinned. “Back again, Murtagh?”

Murtagh just nodded his head in acknowledgement.

Angela Vitch was one of his fellow students, but they never really talked inside the auditorium. It was only out there in the park that they conversed. She had curly, almost red-tinted blonde hair and smoky grey eyes. She was often very quiet, and most students referred to her as mysterious. Murtagh knew that her parents owned an occult store that she also worked in.

“The usual?” she asked and was already reaching into the small fridge to pull out a bottle.

“Thanks,” Murtagh said hoarsely as he grabbed the water bottle with one hand and handed Angela the money with his other.

The young woman only watched him as he unscrewed the cork and slowly started to drink. Murtagh would have loved to drain the whole bottle in one go, but knew better.

“How’ve you been, Murtagh?” Angela asked.

Murtagh sighed as he lowered the bottle from his lips. Half of the content was still left. Murtagh screwed the cork back on and leaned back in his seat. “Can’t complain,” he replied simply, not feeling very keen to chat with his classmate.

“Ah, I see,” Angela said and smirked slightly. “You’re troubled, but you don’t want anyone else to know.”

Another thing that made people refer to Angela as mysterious, or downright freaky sometimes, was that she was eerily perceptive. She could easily tell what someone was thinking, sometimes too easily. Murtagh would be lying if he didn’t say it had freaked him out more than once.

In answer he merely raised an eyebrow.

“Could it be...that someone has recently entered your life, someone you think you’ve seen before?”

Murtagh frowned. He didn’t like where their conversation was going, no matter how one-sided it was. “Whatever. Listen, I have to get going. I promised my friend I’d meet up with him later,” the dark haired male said and stood up.

“I’ll see you later, Murtagh. I hope everything’s fine with Thorn,” Angela said and waved as he walked away.

Murtagh gave a slight shudder. Indeed, Angela was too damn perceptive sometimes.

For a while he just walked. He took an occasional sip from the bottle as he did so. He wasn’t going to continue running until he was out of the park. As usual, his eyes strayed over the strangers and near-strangers he could see inside the park. Murtagh never really paid attention to them and preferred it that way.

But strangely enough, that day his eyes locked themselves on a trio seated not too far away from him. He recognized one of them easily enough. Only one person could possibly have that hair. Aksel. To his left sat a blonde girl Murtagh could have sworn he had seen before. When she started to laugh, it came back to him. It was her he had seen Aksel walk with that night not too long ago. But the boy seated to Aksel’s right also stirred something inside of Murtagh. He knew that brown hair, he was sure of it.

“...I mean it; your boyfriend is a frigging tower! How on earth did you fall for that?” Aksel exclaimed loudly.

“He’s not a thing, Aksel,” the girl scolded. “And because he’s tall, he has certain...advantages.”

Murtagh could see Aksel shudder. The brunet beside him sniggered. The blonde was too busy smirking.

“I did not need to know that! Man, I have to see him later, yanno,” Aksel said and pouted.

“You’ve created worse mental images in our heads, dude. You can live with that tiny one,” the brunet said with a snort.

The girl giggled.

Murtagh frowned when he realised he could hear their conversation quite clearly. He shook his head and realised that he had unconsciously moved closer to them. He snorted to himself and started to walk away. He drained the rest of the bottle and threw it into a nearby recycling bin.

“Yo, Morzansson!”

Murtagh cringed. He had hoped to get away unnoticed. But Aksel couldn’t be sure he had heard him if he started to run, considering how he was fiddling with his iPod. Murtagh opted for that possibility and upped his speed.

“Oy, Your-Emoness, would you kindly stop for just a sec?!” the blond male practically shouted.

Murtagh swore under his breath. He pinched the bridge of his nose and slowed down. Despite the music he had put on, one of his earplugs hadn’t been put back into his ear after his encounter with Angela. He could very clearly hear Aksel as he ran up to him.

“Shite, are ya deaf or something?” Aksel said as he finally caught up with the other.

Murtagh forced himself not to show any outer annoyance. “No,” he replied indifferently. “What do you want?”

“Cold much?” Aksel said and crossed his arms. “I was just coming to say hello.”

“You came, you said,” Murtagh said and let his hands slide into his pockets. “I’m leaving.”

He didn’t want to be around when Aksel’s friends caught up with them. For some reason, avoiding those two was crucial to Murtagh.

“Whoa, is something wrong?” the green eyed male asked.

Murtagh felt the unease continue to rise as the brunet and blonde came closer and closer. There was something eerily familiar about the brown haired boy. When he ran a hand through his hair, making it seem even more windblown, the answer came to Murtagh. It was the kid he had knocked down.

“No,” Murtagh answered finally.

He didn’t wait for Aksel to open his mouth and reply before turning around and starting to walk away.

“That’s not what Arya said!” Aksel yelled after him.

Murtagh just waved dismissively over his shoulder.

“Hey, I know that guy.”

Murtagh rolled his eyes as the voices gradually became more distant.

“He’s the one that knocked me over!” the brunet exclaimed.

“Who, that guy?” Aksel asked loudly.

Murtagh just put the other earplug into his ear and started to run. He’d rather not stick around any longer.

\----

“Um, Murtagh...are you okay?”

The dark haired male tried not to let his impatience show as he waited for Thorn to return. He was currently inside the red haired man’s apartment, something that only occurred once in a while. They tended to hang around in Murtagh’s apartment more than in Thorn’s. But now, only two weeks after his last visit, he was back and was waiting for the owner to return with his girlfriend.

“Murtagh?” Nasuada asked again.

Murtagh shook himself from his thoughts. There was a reason he was slightly annoyed, and that reason was seated across from him. Or rather, the reasons were seated across from him.

“I’m fine,” Murtagh said and sighed.

“You don’t really look like it,” Arya piped up.

Murtagh turned his gaze over to the two females with him. “I suppose I don’t. And thank you for telling that to your dear brother, by the way,” the hazel eyed man said in a sarcastic drawl.

“He would have found it out by himself later anyway,” Arya said and rolled her eyes. “When did you see him?”

“Not that long ago,” Murtagh replied. “I saw him while I was running in the park.”

“Oh?” a flash of surprise flickered in her eyes as she spoke.

“He was there with a few friends of his,” Murtagh said nonchalantly.

Arya leaned back, a slight frown on her lips. “Who were they?” the green eyed girl asked.

Beside her, Nasuada continued to flip through a magazine. She hadn’t really played a part in the conversation so far.

“Some blonde girl and a brown haired kid,” the hazel eyed man replied. “Are we done with the third inquiry yet?”

Nasuada rolled her eyes and peeked up from her reading material. Arya opened her mouth to speak when the door was opened.

“It’s really quiet,” an unfamiliar female voice said softly.

“They’re probably having a glaring match again,” Thorn said and snorted.

“Well, it was about time!” Murtagh called out loudly. “I should sue you for leaving me alone with these two.”

Thorn let out a chuckle and Murtagh heard him close the door. Murtagh crossed his arms and continued to watch the door opening to the room they were sitting in. Thorn entered a second later, his hand linked with a smaller and more delicate one. The dark haired brunet raised an eyebrow when he saw just who Thorn had brought back.

“You?” Murtagh found himself blurting out.

The blonde girl brushed a piece of gold and blue hair behind her ear. Her sapphire blue eyes searched him quickly before her face took a mildly annoyed tone. “You’re the guy that ran over ‘Agon!” she said and glared.

“What?!” Nasuada exclaimed loudly.

“No fighting in my apartment,” Thorn said calmly as he led his girlfriend closer to the trio. “Before there are any more words exchanged, I’d like to introduce my girlfriend. Murtagh, this is Saphira. Saphira, Murtagh.”

“Oh, so it has a name? I only know him as ‘the-asshole-that-ran-me-over’,” Saphira drawled. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Why, I’m almost feeling a bit nostalgic,” Murtagh said with a smirk. “I haven’t had anyone pre-judge me in ages. I practically feel like a kid again.”

Saphira’s face clouded over in confusion.

“Murtagh,” Thorn practically growled.

Murtagh rolled his eyes and held his hands up in surrender. “Sorry,” he smirked. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Saphira.”

“Likewise,” she murmured.

“I’m sensing a story behind all this sarcasm,” Nasuada commented. “Care to share?”

“Why don’t I tell it?” Murtagh said with a wry grin. “I accidentally happened to run over a kid a couple of weeks ago. And while I’m at it, he wasn’t polite about it either. I apologised -”

“Wait, you what?” Arya exclaimed; her tone caught between amusement and slight confusion.

“Yes, I _apologised_. Don’t have a cow,” Murtagh drawled. “Anyhow, he stomped away and that was it. Until last weekend that was, when I saw you and him with Aksel in the park.”

“Oh,” Saphira said softly. “Well, I guess I should apologise on his behalf then. ‘Agon is usually a really nice guy. He must have had a bad day.”

“A royally bad one by the looks of it,” Murtagh said and snorted.

A sharp look from Thorn silenced him. Murtagh lifted his hands once again and leaned back in his seat. “I know, I know. Down boy, I get it.”

Nasuada smothered a giggle. Murtagh raised an eyebrow in answer. Thorn rolled his eyes as he sat down beside Murtagh with Saphira in his lap. The blonde girl blushed slightly before making herself comfortable.

“Wait, am I the only one meeting her for the first time?” Murtagh asked with a small frown.

“It’s you own fault for being so damn antisocial,” the red haired male drawled.

Murtagh flipped his best friend off. Thorn just laughed.

“I met her when she was visiting with Aksel,” Nasuada said with a small smile. “I do live there, you know.”

“Urgh, don’t remind me,” the dark haired male said and shuddered.

“Play nice,” Arya said and sent him a mock-glare.

“Sorry. I just find the thought of you two going at it...” Murtagh trailed off with a small smirk on his lips.

“Are you sure you’re not gay?” Arya said and snorted.

“Maybe, I’m not sure. Can you test that? I’d love to give it a shot,” Murtagh said mock-enthusiastically.

Thorn reached over and flicked his shoulder. Murtagh gave the redhead a glare as he started to massage the area. When Thorn put some muscle behind his hits they hurt like hell. One or two fingers could easily bring a man to the ground if he put the right force behind them.

“And you call yourself my best friend? Traitor,” the hazel eyed man said and glared.

“My, you guys sure are tight,” Saphira commented. “How long have you known each other?”

“Nasuada and I have known each other since primary school. We met Murtagh nine years ago and Arya just three years ago,” Thorn replied.

Saphira smiled softly. “So you met Arya just after she heard about her half-brother?” she asked.

Murtagh frowned at this. What? His frown deepened when Arya nodded.

“My parents divorced when I was just one year old. My mother took me to Ellesméra while my father stayed wherever we lived before. Apparently he had met someone else. They had a son just a year later. And my mom told me about Aksel the year I turned seventeen,” Arya explained. “The first time I saw him was that same year. When he hinted that he wanted to get away from our father, I told him that I would be starting at Varden University College and told him that my door would always be open. The rest you know.”

“Ah,” Saphira murmured. “Now I understand everything so much better. At first I thought Aksel was moving to Therinsford just because Eragon was leaving, but I always thought that sounded a little off.”

Murtagh’s hand paused from where it was lifting a glass to his lips. “Who?” he asked.

“Eragon? Oh, I’ve been referring to him as ‘Agon all this time, haven’t I?” Saphira shook her head and laughed. “Eragon’s the brunet you ran over.”

Another sharp sting of recognition echoed in his mind. Murtagh ran a hand through his hair and wondered what he was supposed to be remembering. His hand clenched into a fist when he realised that he yet again was unable to remember. Perhaps Morzan had indeed slung him into the wall or to the floor one time too many.

Outwardly, Murtagh smirked grimly.

“Murtagh?” Thorn said and shook Murtagh’s shoulder.

The hazel eyed man shook his head. He looked up to find everyone looking at him worriedly. “What? I’m fine.”

“Yeah, like we believe that,” Nasuada said and snorted. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. I’m just having déjà-vu all over again,” Murtagh growled. “God, I hate it.”

“Tag?”

Murtagh brushed off Arya’s question before she could even fully form it. He stood up and sent a small smirk in Saphira’s direction.

“It was nice to finally meet you,” he said and grabbed his jacket. “I’ll talk to the rest of you later.”

“Running never solves anything!” Thorn called out after him sharply.

Murtagh paused in the doorway. He looked over his shoulder and straight into Thorn’s eyes. He turned away again and walked out of the room. A few seconds later he had opened the outer door and closed it with a sound smack.


	2. Of the Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The pick-up lines in this chapter are from this website: www (dot) linesthataregood (dot) com.
> 
>  _\- "Speech." -_ This means that Murtagh is having a flashback.

Saturday finally arrived again. Murtagh had gotten up at the same time as he always did. He glanced briefly at his answering machine and ignored the numbers that blinked on it as he continued to make his breakfast. He ate at a slow pace and ignored the phone when it rang again.

_“This is Murtagh Morzansson. No one’s home right now; you know what to do.”_

Murtagh cringed at his metallic sounding voice. It was a reason he kept his message as short as possible.

_“Murtagh, this has got to stop.”_

The hazel eyed man rolled his eyes and padded back into his bedroom. He blocked out Thorn’s voice as he changed into his running clothes and picked up his iPod from the bedside table. He walked back into the living room area just when Thorn finished his message. Murtagh ran a hand through his hair and frowned when he noticed how long it had grown. He found an old rubber-band and tied back the longest parts of his hair. He strapped on his iPod to his arm, pulled a wrist band onto his right wrist and walked out of the apartment. Before he started to jog, he made sure he had the necessary money in his pocket and that the key was securely in its place.

He was thankful for the loud and thumping music that came on as he started to run. His mind had been unusually loud lately and he wanted nothing more than for it to stay quiet during his run.

The only thing he managed to focus on as he ran was his own mind. He didn’t register the people he ran past and barely even managed to remember to stop when he had to cross a busy road. Memories were lying just beneath the surface and they kept trying to push their way through.

_\- “But you an’t alone anymohe! ...You can call me Aggie, all my f’iends do!” -_

Murtagh almost tripped, but thankfully managed to catch himself. He shook his head. He hadn’t heard that voice in eleven years. What made it suddenly appear now?

_\- “We’ll always be f’iends, ‘ight Taggy?” -_

Murtagh changed the music into something louder and with more rhythm before continuing. He didn’t want to remember, not right now.

_\- “Of course.” -_

The darker brunet gritted his teeth and upped his pace. His body was growing warmer and more tired, but he didn’t care. He wanted those memories gone!

By the time he reached the park he was exhausted. He had tried to keep an even pace, but every time a new memory would hit him, he would put more strain on himself. Murtagh slumped down onto the bench and started to heave for breath.

“Dear God!” a distinct female voice exclaimed. “What on earth has gotten into you?!”

Murtagh sat crouched over his knees while resting his arms onto his thighs, trying to breathe and ignore the pain in his sides. As someone continued to come closer, he forced himself to lean back into his seat and immediately felt more air enter his lungs. One hand shakily rose up to tug the earplugs out before tipping his head even further back and gulped in breath after breath.

“I never had you pegged for a moron,” the same voice scolded him softly.

Murtagh opened his eyes to glare at whatever person that dared to kick him while he was down. Couldn’t they see he was busy trying not to die of asphyxiation?! His glare softened when he recognized the face in front of him.

“Here, drink up. It’s on me,” Angela said and held out a slightly larger bottle of water.

Murtagh nodded in gratitude before eagerly starting to drink. He made sure not to drink while he was breathing in. The last thing he needed was to start choking.

“I knew you were riled up, but really, Murtagh...” Angela murmured as she sat down beside him. “Who on earth has made you this troubled?”

“Oh, so you don’t know everything?” Murtagh drawled in a hoarse voice.

The other rolled her eyes. “If I knew everything, then life would be quite boring,” she said and smirked. “I like life’s little mysteries.”

“Like being one too,” Murtagh muttered under his breath.

Angela let out a soft laugh. “Indeed,” she said. “Now, tell Angela what troubles you.”

“I don’t make a habit of pouring out all of my secrets to people I barely know.”

Angela sighed. “Well, you don’t make a habit of telling people you know well either,” she pointed out while examining her nails.

Murtagh sent her a soft glare.

“Spare your anger, Murtagh. It’s not me you want to hit, and you know it.”

The dark haired male looked away and took another sip of the bottle. He couldn’t argue with that.

The blonde sat in silence for a few more minutes. She started to get up when Murtagh finally spoke.

“There’s this boy,” he said quietly.

Angela sat down and waited for him to continue.

“I knew him when I was younger, but I can’t remember his name or exactly where I met him. Recently he’s been all I can think about,” Murtagh continued.

“I see,” the female beside him murmured. “And there’s no way for you to contact him?”

Murtagh tensed. “No.”

“Do you know what caused him to suddenly appear in your mind?” Angela asked softly.

Murtagh laughed bitterly. “Well, usually he was always there, but not noticeable enough to be in my conscious mind. But now he seems to always be there, whether I want him to be or not. But to properly answer your question; it may or may not have something to do with a brunet I knocked over the other day,” he drawled.

“And he reminded you of this boy?” the grey eyed female asked.

“No,” Murtagh answered with a small frown. “He was rude, snarky and not at all like the boy that I remember.”

“Well, people do grow up,” Angela said and stood up, smothering down her skirt as she did so. “And often they aren’t what we’d believe them to be.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Murtagh asked tensely.

Angela smiled secretively. “Why don’t you figure that out yourself?” she said with a wink.

Murtagh watched her as she walked back to the kiosk and took down the ‘back in 5 minutes’ sign. He frowned as he looked down at the bottle he held in his hands. He sat there, deep in his own thoughts for what seemed like hours. He didn’t register anything around him, not until a slightly familiar voice reached his ears.

“...And, as if that wasn’t enough, some guy had to trip over me, causing whatever he had been holding to fly out of his hands and hit the teacher smack dab in the middle of his face!” a male voice said and laughed hysterically. “It would have been funnier if I hadn’t gotten a detention for it. I was totally innocent.”

“Right,” a second male voice, softer than the first, drawled. “Like you didn’t deserve it after that talk I had to have with the student counsellor. Do you have any idea what sort of questions she asked me?”

“No,” the first voice snorted amusedly. “But I’m sure they were funny.”

“Ha, bloody ha.”

“Down boys,” a female voice scolded them softly. “You both deserve whatever punishments you got back in the day.”

“That’s harsh and uncalled for, Saph,” the first voice whined.

“Oh, stop being such a baby, Aksel.”

Murtagh’s head snapped up. He was surprised he didn’t get a whip lash from it.

Walking down the path towards him was a short blonde female. She had her arms crossed over her chest and a mildly annoyed look on her face. Murtagh was able to recognise her now. It was Saphira. Beside her was Aksel, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. On the other side Saphira was a brunet Murtagh could finally put a name to. Eragon.

Another sting of recognition ran through his mind. He looked away from the trio and ignored it.

“Ah, Murtagh!” Saphira exclaimed suddenly.

Murtagh frowned as he stood up and drank the last of the water. He was surprised he had managed to finish it. He disposed of the bottle and slid his hands into his pockets.

“Who?” Aksel asked her with a confused look on his face.

Murtagh turned his head and let his eyes meet Saphira’s. He gave her a small nod before turning to the other two. Aksel was still busy bugging Saphira to notice him. Eragon however was staring straight at him, a blank look on his face.

“Um...how are you?” Saphira asked softly as the trio came closer.

“Fine,” he answered emotionlessly.

Aksel whipped his head around and stared at him with wide eyes. “What, it talks?!” he exclaimed.

Murtagh rolled his eyes.

“And you have a first name?”

“Yes,” Murtagh said coldly. “I just don’t give it away freely.”

“Ah,” Aksel said and nodded. “Hey, how come she knows?!”

“Because my best friend is a moron,” Murtagh drawled.

Saphira let out a quiet giggle while Aksel continued to look confused. But Murtagh couldn’t help noticing that the brunet hadn’t said one word yet.

“Eragon, don’t be rude! Introduce yourself,” Saphira hissed softly.

“I believe you just did the job for me,” Eragon said coldly.

Murtagh frowned. The kid wasn’t still holding a grudge against him for tripping him, was he?

“Eragon!” Saphira scolded.

“It’s fine. If he still wants to be mad at me for knocking him over, which I did apologise for, then whatever,” Murtagh said and shrugged. “Later.”

“But, Murtagh -”

The dark haired brunet had started to run and was long out of earshot before Saphira could finish her sentence.

\----

“I doubt I’ll ever understand what goes on in your mind,” Nasuada said and shook her head.

“What did I do now?” Murtagh drawled and continued to put away the small boxes in his hands.

There were few times his friends approached him at work. Sure, there were times when they came to buy something and chatted with him briefly before going back to their own business, but it was seldom that Thorn, Nasuada or Arya even walked up to him to really talk. Usually it was ‘I’ll see you at Thorn’s later!’ or ‘Do you remember what -insert professor- told us to read before next class?’ It was never ‘What am I supposed to do with you?’ No, those talks were usually saved for more private places, where Murtagh didn’t have anywhere to run off to.

“Originally Thorn was supposed to give you this talk, but he suspected you’d hit him and sent me,” the dark haired female said and crossed her arms.

“He chickened out?” Murtagh said and turned around, a small smirk on his lips. “That’s a first.”

“He didn’t want Saphira to come after your blood for hurting her boyfriend. She’s very territorial, apparently.”

Murtagh snorted to himself and put away the last box. Sure, _that_ was the reason.

“Well, aren’t you going to tell me what terrible misdeed I have committed?” Murtagh asked and turned around fully.

Nasuada rolled her eyes. “I understand that you’ve managed to bump into this Eragon again, and that you didn’t chew his head off for bumping into _the_ Murtagh Morzansson? We, your friends, were wondering what was going on,” she said and made sure to stare deeply into his eyes.

“Nothing’s going on,” Murtagh drawled. “So I didn’t beat him to pulp. Shouldn’t you be celebrating instead of asking me if I’ve got a screw loose in my head?”

“Murtagh, we know how you work. Saphira told Thorn that you were being quiet, but not rude. Usually you would have at least glared the kid to the ground,” the dark skinned female said and bit her lip. “We can’t help being worried. You’re unusually strange this summer.”

“So? It’s not like I’m having a psychotic break here! Summer reminds me of **him** , and you know it. You never know what you’ve got until you lose it, and all that shit,” the hazel eyed man said and waved his hands dismissively. “Let me be a freak for a few more weeks. I’ll be fine when school starts back up.”

“Which is exactly why we need to deal with this now,” Nasuada said gravely. “Before it’s another year until you’re like this again.”

“Nasuada, I’m asking you to drop this. Don’t make me order it,” Murtagh said, his voice deepening in warning.

Nasuada’s mouth thinned. She gave him a look that clearly stated that she didn’t like what he was doing. Well, tough for her. Murtagh refused to deal with it right now.

Murtagh brushed past her and walked up to stand behind the counter. There was someone else there, dressed like him in jeans and a black t-shirt with a blue and grey sparkly logo on the front. He turned his head slightly when he saw Nasuada practically storm up to the counter, her mouth opening to say something Murtagh was sure he didn’t want to hear. But she was cut off when the bell over the door signalled the arrival of new costumers.

“Damnit,” Murtagh wasn’t even aware of having spoken until he heard the words reach his ears.

In walked two people he would rather take a bullet than to talk again at that moment.

“Ah, hello Saphira. Eragon,” Nasuada called out.

Murtagh scowled. The guy beside him seemed to almost wake up from his trance.

“Can I help you guys?”

Murtagh busied himself with tidying behind the register. He could feel Nasuada’s glare, but he didn’t care. He was just working in the store. The other guy...whatever his name was...could handle the ‘customers’.

“Um, yeah. Do you have any Stephen King based DVDs?” Saphira asked sheepishly.

“Yeah, I believe so. What are you looking for?” the red haired employee replied.

“I can’t remember the name, but it’s a series of small stories. I can’t remember when they were made.”

Murtagh rolled his eyes as the guy beside him started to check out their database. How pathetic could one get?

“Are you talking about ‘Nightmares and Dreamscapes’?” he asked and continued to pull out new goods and put them into the shelf behind the register.

“Yes!” Saphira exclaimed excitedly.

“First floor. Look under the horror section. If you can’t find it there, check the series display next to the staircase,” Murtagh said dully.

“Thank you.”

Murtagh just clicked his tongue and didn’t even look up as he heard two pairs of feet walking up the stairs. He began to hum under his breath as he threw away the tape and superficial boxes that had been around the headphones hanging behind him.

“What are we supposed to do with you?” Nasuada said and sighed tiredly.

Murtagh looked up and raised an eyebrow.

“Would you like some time alone?”

“No,” Murtagh answered at the same time as Nasuada said “Yes.”

The red haired guy, who Murtagh could now identify as Orrin thanks to his nametag, raised his hands in surrender and slowly backed out of the register. Murtagh mentally began to say goodbye to his good hearing.

“Murtagh,” Nasuada practically growled. “This has got to stop. Whoever he was, he’s gone now and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Murtagh felt his eyes narrow almost unwillingly. He knew that, but he didn’t like to be reminded of his past. It was enough that his subconscious did it constantly.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said coldly. “That kid, excuse my choice of words, was my first and only fucking love. I can’t get over him, and no matter how much you tell me to, I can’t let him go. He was the first one I ever broke a promise to. Sometimes I wonder if he still remembers and hates me for that.”

Nasuada’s look softened slightly. “The past is the past; that’s what you always keep saying. Why don’t you listen to yourself for once?”

Murtagh snorted. “If I had listened to myself, I wouldn’t have stopped thinking about him, ever.”

Nasuada grabbed one of his hands, leaned over the counter and spoke in a low voice. “You need to stop blaming yourself so much.”

“First you tell me to listen to myself, and then to stop blaming myself?” Murtagh grinned wryly. “Make up your mind, yeah? Those are pretty damn contradictory.”

The dark skinned girl gave him a blank look. Murtagh answered with a smirk.

“You know what I mean,” she murmured. “Process this hell you’re going through, and maybe you can find a way to get through this without becoming weird next year?” She finished with a wink.

The hazel eyed man just lifted an eyebrow in answer. He highly doubted that. He had done that for the past five or so years, and so far he hadn’t succeeded.

\----

Murtagh sat outside and watched the night darken around him. August would soon come to an end, and he would have to get back onto the school bench. Murtagh scowled and lifted the bottle to his lips, chugging down a good part of the bitter liquid inside of it. God, how he hated summers.

There were several bars and clubs around him, but he had found a place on the other side of the road, watching drunken people attempt to talk around or do things that shouldn’t be mentioned. He didn’t know why he hadn’t simply walked back to the park, but figured it had something to do with him tainting it. Murtagh was too dark, too broken for such a peaceful place. A homeless had more right to be inside that park than he did.

Murtagh brought the beer bottle up to his lips and drowned the rest of the liquid. He had never been a huge fan of beer, but it was all he had, and it suited his goal in getting smashed quite nicely.

He saw someone saunter, or at least try to, down the path towards him. Murtagh noted the alcoholic smell off of him before he was even five feet away from him and plastered a well-trained sneer on his lips.

“Fuck off, I’m not interested,” he sneered in disgust.

The man before him looked disappointed, but two seconds later he merely walked past him and found someone else. Murtagh sneered at himself, dug into his jacket pocket and drew out a small flask. Then he opened it and brought it to his lips. Ah, real and unadulterated alcohol, that was more like it.

He immediately noticed when people suddenly began to walk out of the bars and clubs. Murtagh checked his cell phone and noted to his distaste that it was three a.m. already, meaning that he would be unable to escape the crazy, drunk and horny people on his way home. He put on his customary sneer and began to walk. If he stayed any longer, Murtagh knew that people would just start to bug him. And if there was one thing you didn’t do when Murtagh had been drinking, then it was to bug him. The hazel eyed man smirked when he remembered what he had done to the last guy. Beating someone had never felt so good.

Murtagh sighed as a large group of people was walking towards him. He cracked his fingers and prepared himself for the assault to begin.

“You’ve been a bad, bad boy. Go to my room!”

Murtagh raised an eyebrow and flipped off the guy that had eagerly approached him. Seriously, what did people take him for?

“If you won’t fuck me, can I fuck you?” a guy asked him with a, supposedly, suggestive grin.

“Why don’t you go and fuck yourself instead,” Murtagh sneered in answer.

“If you talk to me, I’ll fuck you,” another guy said with a smirk.

Murtagh just flipped him the bird.

“Hey, baby,” a very drunk guy slurred and draped an arm around Murtagh’s shoulder. “I’ll fuck you so well your _neighbours_ will be having a cigarette when we’re done.”

“I don’t bottom, jackass. Fuck off,” Murtagh snarled and walked away.

“Do you wanna go back to my place, fuck, then never speak again? I do.”

“Do you want to leave me alone and never talk to me again? I do,” the hazel eyed man drawled and walked away from the pouting woman.

“I think pick-up lines are for people with too much time on their hands. Let’s just fuck,” a sultry girl said and pressed herself tightly against Murtagh.

“And I think pick-up lines are for desperate people that haven’t gotten some in a good couple of years. One more day isn’t going to hurt,” Murtagh drawled darkly and walked away briskly.

“If I’m a pain your ass...we can just add more lubricant,” a guy said and leered down at him.

“You are indeed a pain. Get lost before I _kill_ your ass,” Murtagh growled.

“Excuse me; can I have some sex, in exchange for sex?”

Murtagh sneered. “No, but you may have some pain in exchange for me hitting you.”

“Hi,” a very slutty girl said and pressed her breast tightly against him. Murtagh’s sneer deepened. “I’m gay, think you can convert me?”

“I’m gay and you definitely can’t convert me,” the dark haired man said in a growl and pushed her away.

“You know what, looking at you right now, in this light...I could fuck you,” a very bulky man said and grinned.

“You know what? Looking at you right now, in this light, I’d rather fuck a light pole than you,” Murtagh replied cheerfully and stalked away.

“Let’s go get liquored up and rape each other!” a guy said eagerly.

“No amount of liquor could ever make me fuck you,” Murtagh said deadpanned.

“What can I do to make you sleep with me?” a girl said and winked suggestively.

“Get the hell away from me and never approach me again,” Murtagh told her as he walked away.

“My name is Jack. That’s so you know what to scream.”

Murtagh rolled his eyes. “And my name is Fuck Off. That’s so you know what to do when I walk away.”

“Do you take it up the arse?” a guy asked him with a bad try of crocking his eyebrow.

“No, and certainly not from the likes of you,” the dark haired man said and sneered.

Oh god, the pick-up lines of the twenty-first century needed some serious adjustment. Murtagh ran a frustrated hand through his hair and tried to keep his anger in check. The keyword being _tried_.

“Didn’t anyone tell you that you want to sleep with me? I thought you knew,” another girl said and licked her lips.

“Didn’t anyone tell you that I want to kill you? I thought you knew,” Murtagh drawled darkly and shouldered his way out of the masses.

He breathed in the fresh air and cheered inwardly when the group moved on. But apparently Fate hadn’t screwed with him enough for one night.

“I’m addicted to yes and I’m allergic to no. What’s it gonna be?”

Murtagh rolled his eyes. “How about _fuck you_?”

“What’s long, hard and right behind you?” a guy said and nearly grabbed him from behind.

Murtagh sidestepped him easily. “Something that’s going to get its ass kicked if it doesn’t leave me alone.”

“Hi, I’m horny,” a girl said and grinned at him.

“Bye, I’m not,” Murtagh answered deadpanned.

“I don’t know what you think of me, but I hope it’s X-rated,” a guy said and gave him a creepy leer.

Murtagh snorted. “Oh it is, because of all the violence and fatal accidents I can’t help but to picture happening to you.”

“Your belt looks extremely tight. Let me loosen it for you,” a girl said and reached out.

Murtagh just glared and continued to walk away.

“I can tell by the way you’re ignoring me that you want me,” a barely clothed girl smirked smugly.

Murtagh shook his head and merely flipped her off.

“Excuse me, I’m about to go home and masturbate and I need a name to go with the face,”

Murtagh just stared at the guy and lifted an eyebrow. “How about no, dickhead?”

Murtagh sighed in relief when he saw his apartment complex. There was no one else around him to attempt and fail to flirt. He closed his eyes and counted to ten while he walked. Next time he was getting drunk at home.

Murtagh cursed himself for having gone out that night. Now he had a headache and ached to kick someone.

“Um...excuse me?”

“Let me save you the trouble; fuck off,” Murtagh growled and turned around.

His eyes widened when he took in the person behind him. The brunet raised an eyebrow and looked at him suspiciously. Then recognition seemed to set in. Murtagh sighed inwardly.

“Sorry, thought you were someone else,” Murtagh inwardly cursed in surprise when he found himself apologising once again. “Was there something?”

“No,” Eragon growled, turned on his heel and stalked away.

Murtagh watched amusedly as Eragon walked right into the park and suddenly stopped, looking around confused. He chuckled and decided to play nice for just one day.

“You look lost,” he commented innocently.

Eragon glared at him. “I’m fine.”

“Where are you staying?” Murtagh asked and crossed his arms.

“...Why do you care?” the brunet asked suspiciously.

“So that I can give you directions h - there,” Murtagh replied, quickly correcting himself. Had he said _home_ , like he had been about to, then he had a feeling that it would have sounded like a come-on.

“No thanks,” the brunet scowled and continued down the way Murtagh had come.

Murtagh rolled his eyes. “Do you have a place already, or do you live in a hotel?”

“Mind your own fucking business!” Eragon snapped, though he was no longer walking away.

“The student campus is fifteen minutes in the direction you’re heading. When you come to the library, take a right. You’ll recognize the school when you see it,” Murtagh drawled and turned around to walk home.

“...Why are you helping me?” Eragon asked.

Murtagh looked over his shoulder. Eragon didn’t look angry anymore, just suspicious, and perhaps a little curious?

“Because I’m actually not a total ass,” Murtagh replied emotionlessly and walked away.

\----

“I heard the strangest thing about you yesterday,” Arya commented innocently.

Murtagh grunted. It had only been two days since he had run into Eragon and proceeded to get severely drunk after getting home. In fact, he was sure that a little of the headache still remained from the hangover he had gotten. Either that or he was just annoyed with Arya again.

“And what, pray tell, might that have been?” Murtagh drawled unenthusiastically.

Arya leered. Murtagh almost backed away from her, but only almost. His pride kept him from doing so.

Beside him Thorn looked up from the paper. He crooked an eyebrow and Murtagh sent him a glare. He had a feeling he would get no support from there later, support he would sorely need.

The three of them had met in a café for lunch. Unfortunately Nasuada had been unable to come. And Murtagh wasn’t completely sure if he would have preferred her there or not.

“A li’l bird told me you helped it home the other day,” Arya said and smirked. “How thoughtful of you.”

“You know me; I’m only a jackass to humans. Animals, _birds_ , on the other hand; I melt completely,” Murtagh drawled and leaned back in his seat.

Arya’s smirk widened.

“I think you’re actually making it worse,” Thorn commented dryly and went back to the newspaper.

“Gee, you think?” Murtagh growled lowly. “Arya, the fuck’s going on?”

“I’ve never ever seen you be kind to someone you don’t know without being forced,” she paused. “And even then they don’t usually know you’ve been nice until we convinced them otherwise. Now, what’s so different about Eragon?”

The small cloud of confusion lifted. He lifted an eyebrow and snorted.

“He was lost, I just gave him directions,” Murtagh rolled his eyes. “I didn’t even know where he was going; I just let him know how to get to the school.”

“Oh, but he told me you actually asked where he was going,” Arya said and clicked her tongue. “And that you apologised for snapping at him. He caught it this time, apparently.”

Thorn’s newspaper was promptly folded and put down on the table. Murtagh sneered at him. Really, subtlety had never been Thorn’s forte, not that Murtagh thought he was trying to be subtle.

“You can apologise to someone twice without bursting into fire?” Thorn teased with a grin.

“Oh, fuck you,” Murtagh growled.

“Sorry, don’t swing that way.”

“You didn’t answer my question though, Murtagh,” the black haired woman commented softly. “What’s different about him?”

“Nothing,” Murtagh snorted.

“It took months before you stopped glaring at me,” she told him dryly. “Eragon’s been here for about a month and you’ve already apologised twice. Something’s definitely different about him.”

Thorn frowned. Murtagh shot him a look. Thorn looked to be far away in his own mind. Arya’s eyebrows curved slightly in wondering.

“...What do you see?” Thorn asked softly.

“What?” Murtagh asked harshly, as he was often prone to do when caught off guard.

“What do you see when you look at Eragon?” the redhead clarified.

Murtagh felt his eyes widen. Arya frowned, clearly confused. Murtagh was instantly relieved that it seemed like Nasuada and Thorn had kept his little secret, even if he had never told them to.

“I don’t see **him** ,” Murtagh stressed and stood up.

“Then why are you running?” Thorn asked.

The hazel eyed man snorted. He picked up his jacket and shouldered it on. “I’ll talk to you later,” he said briskly and left the café.

\----

Murtagh stood in front of the park. The wind was flapping around him, making his hair partially blind his sight. He stood there for another minute before walking inside.

Leaves crunched and the gravel whispered beneath his shoes as he walked down the path. He continued until he came to what seemed like a familiar sight. There was a playground to his right, the wind making the swings move and creak slightly. It was abandoned in the slight chill of the late autumn afternoon.

Murtagh slowly stepped forward until he found a bench located just beneath a tall tree. He stared almost wistfully up at it before sitting down. He leaned back, his hands still in his pockets, and closed his eyes.

If he concentrated hard enough, he could almost hear the children screaming in joy and running around playing and laughing. Being carefree as only children could. Slowly he began to hum a song, a song he had forgotten the text to, but the tune had stayed with him.

“I figured I’d find you here.”

Murtagh stopped humming. His eyes remained closed as he felt someone sit down beside him.

“What song was that?”

“I can’t remember,” Murtagh answered and opened his eyes.

Thorn snorted. “Having amnesia about everything, are we?” he drawled.

The hazel eyed man just raised an eyebrow in reply.

“Have you thought about what I said?” Thorn asked and directed his gaze at the park around them.

“Whether or not Eragon reminds me of _him_? No. There’s nothing to think about,” Murtagh replied and looked away too.

“So you admit it?” Thorn said and looked at him out of the corner of his eye.

Murtagh remained silent.

“There’s a very easy way to solve this mystery, you know,” the redhead said and sighed tiredly.

“Yeah, that won’t freak him out,” Murtagh drawled. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have known a broody little brat eleven years ago that moved? No? Sorry to bother you.”

Thorn rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to be nasty about it,” he said.

“If I’m not nasty, I’m not me,” Murtagh explained in a mock-chipper tone.

Thorn mumbled something under his breath. Murtagh smirked.

“Listen, you have a week until school starts again, and then who knows when you’ll have the time? Just ask him and get it over with!” the redhead exclaimed.

“Or I just don’t ask him,” Murtagh said and shrugged.

“Why do you insist on running?” Thorn asked tiredly.

“It’s all I’ve ever been good at,” the other answered dryly. “Running away from my dad, running away from my feelings. You should know that.”

“I’ve asked Saphira to bring him here in about fifteen minutes. _Ask_ him!”

Murtagh turned around to send Thorn the darkest glare he could muster. He stood up stiffly and started to walk away.

“Ah, Thorn!”

Murtagh swore. He had forgotten that about Thorn. When the redhead said one time, he meant something else, especially when there was a chance Murtagh would take off to avoid a confrontation.

“Do you want to hurt me, Thorn? Is that it?” he asked in a low and dangerous voice.

Thorn stood up beside him. The redhead manoeuvred to stand in front of him and allowed their gazes to meet. But Murtagh could still see the two figures making their way over.

“No. I just want you to move on,” Thorn said quietly.

“You’re doing a bloody good job of showing me that,” Murtagh hissed. “Fuck you, Thorn.”

He none-the-gently shouldered his way around Thorn and started to walk away. He kept his eyes in front of him, never meeting Saphira or Eragon’s eyes.

“Are you alright?”

“Leave me alone,” Murtagh growled, not even caring who had asked him.

He strode past them.

“Murtagh!”

He sneered and turned around to glare at Thorn one last time. As he did so, his eyes collided with a pair of brown ones. Murtagh froze.

_\- “Taggy? Whas w’ong?” -_

Murtagh flinched and looked away. He turned back around and walked out of the park, silently making a vow never to step inside of it ever again.

\- “No, you can’t leave! ...Taggy!” -

\----

Murtagh hummed quietly as he worked. School would begin the next day, though the actual classes were starting on Thursday, two days later. Murtagh wasn’t sure why, and neither did he care. He would just arrive, print out his schedule, avoid any and all confrontations with his friends, and leave. He could buy his books later.

“Yo!”

Murtagh flinched. Only one person he knew said that. He gritted his teeth and turned around.

“What’s up?” Aksel asked brightly.

“The sky,” Murtagh replied dryly. “What do you want?”

“Do you have any vampire movies?” the blond asked.

The dark haired man narrowed his eyes. “Check the horror section. Or do you have a movie in mind?”

“Interview with the Vampire?” Aksel asked hopefully.

“Check under _I_ ,” Murtagh replied dryly. “We should have it in.”

“Cheers!” Aksel said brightly and practically ran up the stairs.

Murtagh rolled his eyes and went back to work. Two minutes later he found a hand being thrust in front of him. He sneered and looked up.

“I’ll take it,” the blond said and grinned.

Murtagh sighed and rang up the movie. He said the price automatically and quickly gave Aksel his change. He waited for the other to go afterwards, but he simply leaned onto the counter and watched him go back to work.

“...That’s your cue to leave,” Murtagh said darkly. “I’m not a babysitter.”

“I know,” Aksel said and pursed his lips. “Just wondering if I can crack your shell.”

Murtagh let out a sharp laugh. “My friends have tried to do that for nine years and counting. Good luck.”

“Ah, so it’s an armour. That takes longer,” Aksel said and nodded to himself.

Murtagh rolled his eyes. “Kid, no offense; but leave. You got what you came for. The door’s right there,” he said and pointed.

“I know. But I can’t help but to wonder...”

“Go and wonder somewhere else,” Murtagh snapped.

Aksel smirked. He straightened up and let his hands slip into his pockets. Murtagh watched him turn around and walk out with a slight confused frown on his face. He sneered and went back to his job. So what if Aksel was nuts? It ran in the family, it had to.

“Oh yeah, he was as hostile as you predicted.”

Murtagh looked up sharply. He could have sworn Aksel had walked out. He looked towards the entrance and noticed to his displeasure that the blond was talking to someone just outside of the door. Since the counter wasn’t far from the entrance, and it had been chained open that day due to the unusual heat, he could hear every word being said.

“Told you so,” a female voice answered.

Murtagh swore when he recognized Arya’s voice. Damn her! Always butting in. He would talk to Nasuada the next time he saw her.

“You really think it’s him?” Aksel asked slightly suspicious.

“Someone certainly seems to think so,” Arya said as if it explained everything.

Murtagh watched them walk away with a blank look on his face.

\----

It was another Saturday, and Murtagh had successfully managed to avoid his friends thus far. Apparently he didn’t have any classes until Monday, so he had been blissfully free from school for the past few days.

Murtagh strapped on his iPod around the arm of his thin sweater. September had officially started, and it was slowly getting chillier, despite the sudden heat bursts every now and then. So sweaters it was.

He ignored the phone that had decided to start ringing and locked the door. Then he put away his keys and slowly walked out of the building and onto the street.

Music flowed into his ears, heavy and fast as usual. Thankfully it seemed to block out his thoughts. For it seemed that even though September had begun, a few memories refused to be put to rest. And as soon as he felt them creeping up, Murtagh would fasten his steps.

His breathing rang inside his ears just below the hum of the music. His heart was beating in time with the tune, and his feet hit the pavement and occasionally fell in tune with the music. He ran past people, not caring who they were, as long as they didn’t get in his way. He ran across of the street, not caring the slightest that he could get run over.

Time seemed to fly by as the park entered his vision. Murtagh almost turned around to run straight back, but knew that he might not live to regret it. He slowed his jog as he entered the buzzing park. People were everywhere, chatting with friends, playing or joking around, or jogging like him.

Angela was waiting from him when he arrived. She gave him the bottle as he sat down and watched as he unscrewed the cork and started to drink. Absently he held out the money, and she took it just as absentmindedly.

“How are you?” she asked when he came up for air.

“Irritated as hell,” he answered truthfully.

“So I can see,” she said and smiled softly. “And I wonder why.”

Murtagh remained silent. He lifted up the bottle and took another sip.

“It’s been a while since you last came here,” Angela commented. “Something that has been keeping you occupied?”

Murtagh grunted. “For these last few weeks, running has actually completely slipped my mind.”

Angela snorted. “You’ve never forgotten a Saturday’s run as long as I’ve worked here. I think you’ve never forgotten to take one since you started this tradition of yours. Who were you avoiding?”

Murtagh flinched. “No one.”

“Could it be that boy of yours?” the grey eyed woman asked.

Murtagh sent her a glare. Angela didn’t even blink.

“They’ve been coming here a lot lately. Though, I can’t say I see them here today,” she trailed off.

“Good. I’m not in the mood,” the hazel eyed man said darkly.

“But rest assured that they’ll be back. One of them has taken a keen interest in you,” Angela said with a small smirk.

“Bloody Aksel,” Murtagh swore. “Bloody Arya. Bloody inability to leave my life -”

“It wasn’t Aksel I was talking about,” Angela said and got up.

Murtagh stared after her in bewilderment. He quickly shook his head and glared down at his shoes. He finished the bottle and threw it away. He was prepared to walk away, but curiosity won out.

Angela looked up with a twinkle in her eye as he stopped before the counter.

“Who?” he asked nonchalantly.

Angela smiled. “The curiosity goes both ways,” she said with a subtle wink.

Murtagh snorted. He shook his head and turned around. So much for getting an answer out of her.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and began to walk away. There were a few faces he recognized from the college, but he passed right by them. He also noticed that there were a lot of couples in the park that day, though he had no idea why. _Spring_ was the time for love, or so he had heard.

Laughter suddenly made him pause. A face flashed before his face; plump cheeks, soft brown hair, large eyes, a large smile. He turned around.

Three people were laughing together, but Murtagh could only hear that one laugh clearly. The other two didn’t even register to him; only the owner of that laugh. Sandy brown hair, dark brown eyes, slim figure and a still slightly round face. The mouth that usually was frowning was smiling with joy; the eyes were alive with an inner fire. Murtagh couldn’t help but to think _beautiful_.

Then reality crashed down on him. He recognized the other two, and more importantly, he recognized the brunet. The laughter came to an end and Murtagh held back a flinch when their eyes met.

He could see it now. “ _Fuck_.”

Slowly Murtagh turned back around and started to walk. Then he did what he had always been good at; he ran.


	3. Of the Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** I don’t own the song _Iris_ by Goo Goo Dolls.
> 
>  _\- "Speech." -_ This means that Murtagh is having a flashback.

Murtagh had ventured into the park that night despite what he had promised to himself. It wouldn’t be the first promise he had broken, so he didn’t care.

He treasured the dark as he stepped into the deserted green. It made him feel more welcome. During the day he stood out too much; being much too tainted and too dark to fit in. During the night the park became something else; a place where drunks passed out, prostitutes rested and where the homeless slept in peace. In that crowd he could blend in as just another lost soul.

No one bothered him that night. He walked back up to the tall tree and circled around it. With a critical eye, he climbed it mentally. Finally feeling satisfied, he jumped up and climbed.

The leaves were starting to fall, so there weren’t many to provide him cover. But it was enough. He wasn’t there to hide; merely to think.

He remembered now. He remembered Aggie’s bell-like laughter, bright smile, warm heart and the cute lisp. But most of all he remembered Aggie’s name; Eragon.

Murtagh hit his head against the tree trunk. How could he have forgotten?! It was only eleven years since he had last seen him! Well, now a few hours since he had seen the teenage version. Murtagh slammed his head back again for good measure. He was an idiot!

“Morzan really did throw me into the wall one too many times,” Murtagh said dryly before starting to laugh. “It wasn’t enough to strip me of my emotions was it, you bastard? You had to cut my heart out too, didn’t you? Rip me from the one thing I had grown to treasure and beat that out of my head. You **bastard**.”

The wind whispered back to him, though he couldn’t make out the words. He sighed.

“I always did want to know if he hated me for forgetting,” Murtagh said bitterly. “I guess now I know. Be careful what you wish for and all that crap.”

Murtagh fell silent and listened to the wind blow around him. A few leaves shuddered and crinkled quietly above him. He closed his eyes and felt himself start to hum again.

He wasn’t sure when the habit had started, but he remembered doing so when he was younger. He had stopped when Morzan had ripped him away from Eragon, though. It figured that he would start again now that he finally had met his ex-friend again.

Unbidden, another memory rose inside his mind. He sighed and let it come to him.

_\- “You have a ‘eally nice voice,” Eragon said softly._

_Murtagh blushed. He hadn’t even noticed the brunet arriving. He stopped and watched the other sit down beside him and pout._

_“Aww, don’t stop!” Eragon whined. “Sing fo me?”_

_Murtagh looked out and into the park. He couldn’t see Eragon’s other friends. It seemed like the brunet had come alone. He sighed and looked back at his friend._

_“I don’t sing,” Murtagh said awkwardly._

_Eragon’s pout deepened. “You did it just a minute ago! Pwease?”_

_Murtagh felt his resolve crumble. It was just so hard to say no to Eragon._

_“...Alright,” Murtagh said and sighed._

_“YAY!” Eragon exclaimed excitedly. “What’cha gonna sing?”_

_“I...don’t know,” the dark haired child said and frowned. “I hum mostly.”_

_“What we’h you singin’ a minute ago?” Eragon asked with pursed lips._

_“Eh, nothing that’s especially suited for someone your age,” the hazel eyed boy said and bit his lip._

_Eragon frowned in confusion._

_“Oh, it’s nothing bad or anything!” Murtagh was quick to say. “It’s just...you won’t know it.”_

_“I don’t ca’h. Pwease? I won’t tell. Pwetty pwease!”_

_Murtagh sighed. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and then gave a slight nod. Eragon brightened up instantly and turned to look at him head-on. Murtagh blushed again._

_“Okay, I’m not really good or anything, this is just a song I’ve heard on the radio a few times,” Murtagh said stalling._

_Eragon started to pout again and Murtagh grinned sheepishly. He pulled on the bandage around his wrist before he opened his mouth._

_“And I’d give up forever to touch you  
Cos I know that you feel me somehow  
You’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be  
And I don’t want to go home right now”-_

Murtagh let the memory linger for just a moment before he opened his mouth.

“And all I can taste is this moment  
And all I can breathe is your life  
Sooner or later it’s over  
I just don’t want to miss you tonight”

Murtagh allowed a small smile to touch his lips before he continued; his voice a little louder and stronger this time.

“And I don’t want the world to see me  
Cos I don’t think that they’d understand  
When everything’s made to be broken  
I just want you to know who I am”

He opened his eyes and looked out into the night, the words still falling from his lips even though he didn’t know where they came from.

“And you can’t fight the tears that ain’t coming  
All the moments of truth in your lies  
When everything feels like the movies  
Yeah, you bleed just to know you’re alive

And I don’t want the world to see me  
Cos I don’t think that they’d understand  
When everything’s made to be broken  
I just want you to know who I am”

Murtagh’s grip around his leg tightened. He just knew there was someone watching him, listening to him.

“The song’s about you, isn’t it?”

Murtagh tensed. He looked down at the ground below and found himself staring into a pair of very familiar eyes. His eyes hardened and he looked away.

“So what if it is?” Murtagh replied dryly.

“What song is it?” the brunet asked.

“...I don’t know,” Murtagh admitted coldly.

Eragon laughed bitterly. “And you wouldn’t tell me if you did...I suppose an apology from me is in order. I...shouldn’t have been so short with you, especially after you said you were sorry and all that.”

Murtagh let out a bark like laugh. “Oh, don’t tell me; Arya spoke to you? Nasuada? Or was it Thorn?”

Murtagh saw Eragon frown out of the corner of his eye.

“What?” Eragon breathed.

“No one ever apologises to me unless my friends have, as they call it, ‘explained my behaviour’. Really, it isn’t my fault my father didn’t raise me right,” Murtagh said bitterly.

“You think I’m saying this cos one of your friends talked me into it?” Eragon asked.

“That’s one way of putting it,” the hazel eyed man said and got up. He slowly climbed down, though Eragon remained silent.

“I’m not,” the brunet said and tilted his head slightly. “I...I can admit that I’m a bit slow. I didn’t realise you were being nice...in your own way.”

“See, now that isn’t making me believe that my friends haven’t had a little chat with you,” Murtagh said with a smirk.

“Have you always been this difficult?” Eragon asked with frustration in his voice.

“Pretty much.”

Eragon sighed. Murtagh looked away and tried not to let the reality of the situation really set in. It was easy to believe that this was all a dream. Well, it was easier than to believe it was actually happening. Because if he could push it away, make it less real somehow, then he wouldn’t have to deal with the feelings that he had tried so hard to bury.

“I can’t remember you being like this,” Eragon said finally.

Murtagh looked at him sharply. During the time he had been looking away, the brunet had moved closer. He held down a flinch.

“That’s because you’ve blown me off ever since meeting me,” Murtagh said dryly.

Eragon took another step forward, his face surprisingly neutral. Murtagh wondered how he had become like that. The boy he remembered was so full of life it seemed impossible for him not to express something. Then again, he hadn’t believed his Aggie could look so grown up, act so bitter and snappy either. Those things made even easier for him to believe everything around him was a dream.

“No...” Eragon trailed off. “I meant, I can’t remember you being like this when we were kids.”

Murtagh felt his eyes widen and cursed himself for reacting. He remembered? Eragon **remembered**?!

“We have never met before,” Murtagh said harshly.

Eragon half-smiled. Murtagh couldn’t believe he looked so calm while Murtagh was actually rejecting him. The Aggie he knew was truly gone. The brunet stepped even closer.

“You don’t remember?” Eragon commented. “Or are you in denial?”

Murtagh took a step back.

“No, I can see it in your face. You remember, you just don’t want to,” Eragon said calmly. “I understand.”

Murtagh narrowed his eyes. “How could you possibly understand?” he snapped.

Eragon smiled sadly. “Because I was in denial too. I thought I had lost you. It was easier to think you had moved too far away to be able to contact me or had died than to think that you had forgotten about me. But I see it now.”

“Well, I don’t,” Murtagh said coldly. “Whoever you think I am, I’m not.”

“I realise you aren’t Taggy anymore,” Eragon said and shrugged. “We all grow up. I’m not Aggie anymore either. When you left, you took some of my happiness with you. But you’re still him, still the kid that was my friend, even if only for one summer. It doesn’t matter than you don’t act like him anymore, you’re still him.”

Murtagh took another step back. “Stay away from me,” he growled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“But you do,” Eragon stated. “I know you do. That song you just sang; you sang it to me the day before you told me you had to move. I remember it.”

The hazel eyed man sneered.

“I was mad at you for a long time, in a way, I still am,” the brunet continued. “But I’ve always let bygones be bygones.”

“What are you saying?” Murtagh hissed.

“I don’t want to lose you again,” Eragon said tensely.

Murtagh flinched. He looked away and glared at the darkness around them. “You don’t know what you’re asking,” he growled. “And I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Stop being in denial, already!” Eragon exclaimed. “I know you remember me, so stop saying you don’t!”

“FINE!” Murtagh yelled. “But it doesn’t change anything. I’ve had to live with the thought that I would never see you again. For eleven years I believed that. And I’d rather go on for another eleven years believing the same than to start over.”

And with that said, Murtagh turned around and ran.

\----

Murtagh avoided his friends the following days. He actually managed to do it, even though he lived right in-between them and they knew when and where he worked. For a minute he had wondered if they maybe were giving him some space. He had started to laugh a second after thinking the thought. His friends didn’t know when to give him space! If anything, that was when they bugged him the most.

He didn’t see Eragon again. Not in the school cafeteria, the library or even in the hall. Murtagh almost believed he had pushed him away for good, and wondered if that was what he wanted. A sharp stab to the heart told him that no; no he did not. Eragon had been the only light in his childhood; why would he push that away? Because he was an idiot, that was why. And because he actually had his reasons.

“You are an idiot!”

Murtagh didn’t have the time to prepare himself before he felt someone slap him hard. He gritted his teeth, but didn’t cry out. He turned his head back around and glared down at the female before him.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Arya hissed angrily.

“...Working, I believe,” Murtagh answered dryly.

And he was trying to forget just how many people were staring at them. Unfortunately, a girl coming up to slap an employee didn’t happen every day.

“You, you!” Arya growled. “Why did you go and do that?!”

“...Do what?” Murtagh asked tiredly. The worst was that he actually had an idea what she was talking about.

“Don’t play dumb,” she hissed quietly. “Nasuada finally cracked. She told me everything, everything about how you become insanely love-sick during the summer, longing for that little boy you remember from your childhood. And what do you do when you finally find him again? You **push** him _away_?!”

Murtagh was insanely glad there was no one within ear-shot. He grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the store. He dragged her into the alley around the corner where the dumpsters were. There he let her go and narrowed his eyes.

“Try to make me sound less of a pedophile, please,” he said dryly. “I need that job.”

“And I don’t care!” Arya exclaimed loudly. “Are you trying to stay miserable?!”

“And what if I am?” Murtagh commented nonchalantly.

Arya narrowed her eyes angrily. Murtagh rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

“Eragon doesn’t know what he’s asking of me,” Murtagh said then. “I can’t go back to being his friend just like that. I spent eleven years thinking I’d never see him again. When he’s done here, he’ll leave again. If I let him get close and he leaves, I’ll die.”

Arya’s face softened. “What makes you think he’ll leave?”

“Wherever he came from, that’s where he lives!” Murtagh hissed darkly. “After he graduates from college, he’ll go back there. Even if that’s three or five years from now, he’ll leave. And if I let him close, I can’t promise I’ll live to see him go.”

“Murtagh -”

“Don’t you get it yet? I love that kid. I _love_ him more than you can even begin to imagine. And it hurts to love someone you think you’ll never see again. And if you lose that again, you’ll go crazy. I can’t love with half of my heart, Arya; I love with all of it. That’s why I’m pushing him away.”

Arya fell silent. Murtagh pursed his lips and waited for her to respond. His heart was in his throat, but he didn’t care.

“Does Eragon know?” the green eyed female asked softly.

Murtagh let out a bitter laugh. “Of course he doesn’t. I was ten, and he was, what, seven? No, he doesn’t know. And that’s the way it’s going to stay.”

“You can’t do that to him!” Arya said sharply. “You have to tell him!”

“Why, so I can see him walk away? No, I will not do it,” Murtagh barked.

Arya pursed her lips in frustration.

Murtagh stepped around her and whispered something to her as he passed. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

\----

Murtagh wondered about the irony in the world. It always seemed to strike him the hardest. When he had thought he would never get a friend, he had found one. When he thought he could never forget Eragon, he had. When he had thought he would never see Eragon again, he had. And when he had thought his feelings would fade with time, they hadn’t.

He sat in his apartment. He had gotten home two hours ago, and he still hadn’t bothered to turn on the light. Outside it was raining cats and dogs and everything in-between. Murtagh had only changed into dry clothes before sitting down in front of the TV, putting it on mute as he allowed music to flow inside the room.

The phone had rung a few times, but he hadn’t bothered to answer. His answering machine could pick up for him; it was nicer than he was after all. Murtagh watched as the phone rang again. He sighed and leaned over, picking up the cordless and putting it on speaker.

“What do you want?”

_“Murtagh, you’re being an ass.”_

Murtagh smirked dryly. “Ah, my good friend. How have you been?”

 _“Fuck you,”_ Thorn growled. _“I haven’t seen or spoken to you in two weeks, and that’s the first thing you say to me?”_

“We all know I’m a bastard, there’s no need to act surprised,” Murtagh said nonchalantly and turned down the volume slightly.

 _“I heard what you said to the kid,”_ Thorn began to say.

“Oh, not you too!” Murtagh groaned. “Look, if you’ve talked to Arya, you know my reasons. If you haven’t, then talk to her! I don’t feel like explaining myself twice.”

 _“I have talked to her,”_ Thorn said gruffly. _“And that’s exactly why I’m calling. Are you out of your frigging mind?! What sort of reason is that!? You know that it’s better to have loved and lost.”_

“Not twice in a row, and not with the same person,” Murtagh told him sharply. “I’m not doing that again.”

 _“We’re all afraid to get hurt, but damnit, Murtagh!”_ the redhead practically yelled.

“I don’t care what you’re going to say, I won’t change my mind. I lived with the thought that maybe someday I could see him again, talk to him again if only for just a second, and at that time that was okay. But now, now that I’ve actually seen him again, I can’t. I just **can’t**.”

Thorn fell silent for a moment.

“And besides, after I get my Master I’m leaving,” Murtagh sighed.

 _“What?”_ Thorn growled.

“I need a change of space, Thorn. My dad’s in the state prison. I just, I need to get away from all of this, away from him,” the hazel eyed man said sombrely.

_“The fuck are you saying? You’re bailing on us?!”_

“He’s been trying to contact me, did you know that?” Murtagh said quietly. “He thinks that I can do something to help him. I need to get away.”

 _“That’s why you wouldn’t ask him about Eragon; you’re afraid,”_ Thorn murmured.

“Thorn, the man threw me into the wall when I forgot to do the dishes,” Murtagh stated dryly.

 _“Why you never went to the Child Services, I have no idea,”_ the redhead said sadly.

Murtagh didn’t answer.

 _“Murtagh, running isn’t the answer to everything!”_ Thorn said almost desperately. _“And neither is pushing away the people you care about.”_

“I’ll be back to my normal self next week,” Murtagh said and sighed. “But I’m not giving a friendship with Eragon another chance. I lost him once; I’m not losing him again.”

And before Thorn could respond Murtagh hung up. The phone didn’t ring afterwards, and for a minute Murtagh felt hollow. Then he turned up the music and closed his eyes, drowning himself in the beat. Sleep followed a few minutes later.

\----

Murtagh didn’t run the following Saturday. Instead he merely walked to the park. It took him quite a bit longer to reach his destination, but he didn’t care. An hour ticked by before he finally found himself inside the park. He didn’t know why he was risking it, knowing quite well who liked to come there, but he had felt the need to honour his Saturday tradition, even if he didn’t want to run there.

“Not running today?” Angela asked as he approached.

Murtagh merely shook his head in answer.

“What’s wrong?” she asked as she put up the ‘be right back’ sign and stepped out of the kiosk.

Murtagh sank down on the bench and tipped his head back.

“I’m not really talking to my friends anymore,” he said softly.

“Yes, I know,” Angela said and sighed loudly.

Murtagh looked up and crocked an eyebrow.

“They come here as much as you do, asking if you’ve been by mostly. If they hadn’t told me so themselves, I would have seen it in their eyes.”

Murtagh closed his eyes and tried to will his upcoming headache away.

“Now, what’s this nonsense about you blowing off that poor boy?” Angela asked.

“I blew him off because I’d rather deal with the hurt now than later,” Murtagh replied emotionlessly.

“But I seem to recall Thorn telling me that you didn’t want to lose him,” the grey eyed woman commented.

“And I don’t. I already have once, and I refuse to lose him like that again. Hence the ‘no-friendship’ policy,” Murtagh explained.

“And I seem to recall him not wanting to lose you either,” Angela paused. “Ever stop to consider that he might feel the same?”

“Pah,” Murtagh snorted. “I’m broken beyond the chance of ever receiving love. Don’t make me laugh.”

Angela sighed. “Someone doesn’t seem to think so.”

“Then Eragon’s a fool,” Murtagh said sharply. “And beside, he was seven when I left. I at least was closer to puberty. You can’t love someone at that age.”

“Love knows no boundaries,” Angela said mystically and Murtagh heard her stand up. “You should give that poor boy a chance.”

“But I won’t,” Murtagh said firmly. “This is for the best of us.”

“Then I suggest you tell him that,” the female said and Murtagh felt her walk away.

He snorted and sat up straight. His eyes opened and when he took in the sight before him, he wished he had kept them closed. He threw an angry look at Angela, but she was looking in the other direction.

Murtagh slowly stood, trying his best not to flinch under the heavy stare.

“Did you mean it?” the person before him asked timidly.

“Did I mean what?” Murtagh asked emotionlessly.

“That you don’t want to lose me,” Eragon said with a barely even voice. “If so, then why are you doing this?”

“Because I can’t lose you again,” Murtagh said tensely.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Eragon told him coldly.

Murtagh closed his mouth and stayed silent.

“And feel the same? Feel the same how?” Eragon clenched his teeth. “How do I not feel the same?”

Murtagh remained silent.

“Damnit!” Eragon exclaimed angrily. “I’ve looked for you ever since I got old enough! In my own way, I’ve looked for you for eleven years, even if it was only in my dreams! Tell me!!”

“No,” Murtagh replied calmly.

Eragon glared at him. Before Murtagh could be quite sure what was happening, Eragon had grabbed a handful of his sweater and stood up on his toes, placing a firm kiss on his lips. Murtagh breathed in sharply through his nose. He remained unresponsive, even if it took so much out of him that he had to clench his fists tightly together, and waited.

Eragon pulled back with a tense look on his face. “Don’t feel the same like that?” he asked harshly.

“Eragon, don’t,” Murtagh said coldly.

“No, you don’t,” Eragon growled and kissed him again.

Murtagh clenched his jaw. Eragon’s mouth felt so warm, so right against his own. And when Eragon leaned in so closely that he could feel the heat radiating from his body, he nearly lost it. But only nearly. It was only when Eragon bit his lip that Murtagh caved. Somehow Eragon managed to sneak in his tongue, and that became his end.

Murtagh snarled and reached out, pulling Eragon completely against him. A small sound left Eragon, but it was swallowed between them. Murtagh gripped onto the back of the brunet’s neck and onto his waist. Eragon just continued to hang onto the front of his sweater.

They kissed angrily and brutally, not at all what Murtagh had expected any first kiss between them to be. But in a way, it fit. Murtagh only let Eragon come up for air for a second before kissing him brutally again. But Eragon didn’t complain. If this was what Eragon wanted, then that was what he was going to get.

Murtagh let the kiss continue for another minute. He let go with a final nip at Eragon’s bottom lip. Then he let go completely and stepped back, even if it meant the bench digging into the back of his calves.

“Tag?” Eragon breathed.

“There, you’ve gotten what you came for. Now I’m leaving, and you better not approach me again,” Murtagh said darkly and stalked away.

\----

Now people seemed to want to knock down his door. Apparently calling until it wasn’t possible to hear when one call ended and a new one began wasn’t enough. He hadn’t answered any of the calls or opened the door once, though he had been tempted to answer just once to scream at them to leave him alone. Of course, that would only give him more trouble, so he hadn’t.

“Murtagh, open this fucking door!” Thorn yelled angrily one night, as he had done for the past week already.

Murtagh snorted and sipped his drink. One little kiss and suddenly people wanted to kill him. He really couldn’t win with his friends.

“You know I have a key to this place,” Thorn warned him. “I haven’t used it yet because we want you to talk to us on your own accord.”

“Good luck there,” Murtagh murmured under his breath.

“But then again, you probably have the door-chain on, don’t you?” Thorn growled. “Open up, already!”

“Murtagh, we just want to talk,” Nasuada added in a calm voice.

Murtagh looked away and gulped down his beer.

“Would you open up for Eragon?” Nasuada asked.

Suddenly the apartment seemed quiet, too quiet. Thorn had finally stopped banging on the door. Murtagh braved a look and put down the bottle, though he made no move to get up.

“We just want you to be happy,” the dark skinned girl said softly, so softly that Murtagh almost didn’t hear her.

“Then leave me alone,” Murtagh replied loudly enough for them to hear.

Suddenly it was quiet again. He could imagine the shock on his friends’ faces, though it brought no smile to his face.

“You know that won’t make you happy,” Nasuada said finally.

“I don’t care,” Murtagh said then.

“Please open up so that we can talk. It’s awkward to talk to you like this.”

“Then stop talking,” Murtagh snapped and gripped his head tightly.

“Murtagh,” Nasuada said sternly. “Eragon deserves some proper answers.”

“Well, it’s not like he’s there with you,” Murtagh snapped and stalked over to the kitchen to properly dispose of the glass bottle. It wasn’t good for him to have ammunition to throw if he got angry enough.

“What if he is?” Nasuada said then.

Murtagh froze. Slowly he took out another beer of the fridge and slammed the door shut. “Too bad he’s not, then.”

“I am, Murtagh.”

Murtagh flinched. Fuck, he could recognize that voice anywhere now.

“That was low, Thorn, very low,” he spat at the door.

“ _I_ asked him to come, Murtagh,” Nasuada said softly. “Please?”

“No,” the hazel eyed man replied and proceeded on the mission to get himself drunk.

“Murtagh,” Eragon breathed.

“I might end up hitting you if you come in here,” Murtagh threatened.

“Then that’s a risk I’ll have to take,” the brunet said calmly.

“The hell you will,” Murtagh spat angrily. “No one’s coming in, and that’s final!”

Murtagh didn’t bother to stick around to hear what they had to say next. He stomped loudly over to his bedroom and slammed the door shut.

\----

The next day Murtagh entered his apartment with an absent mind. His arms were loaded with groceries, and he had to kick the door shut behind him. He kicked off his shoes before padding into the kitchen.

Ten minutes later everything was put away and he hung up his jacket and bag by the door. Then he ruffled two hands through his hair and grimaced at the feel of the long strands in the back. He still hadn’t cut it.

He stopped short when he looked up by chance on his way to the bedroom.

“What are you doing?” he hissed angrily. “Get out.”

Eragon shook his head stubbornly. “If I can’t get you to admit your feelings then, damnit, I’m going to be your friend even if you don’t want me to.”

Murtagh let out a frustrated groan. “Leave, Eragon,” he growled. “Leave before I do something we’ll both regret.”

“Like we aren’t regretting things already,” Eragon stated dryly. “We’re going to talk, and that’s final.”

Murtagh scowled and stalked to his bedroom. Before he could slam the door shut, Eragon slipped inside. Murtagh let out a loud scream of frustration and slammed his fist nearly through the wall.

“What part of ‘never approach me again’ didn’t you understand?” he hissed.

Eragon just crossed his arms in answer.

“Eragon, if we had met on a different day, in a different way, if one or both of us had acted differently, then yes, I would have wanted to be your friend. But that didn’t happen, so this can’t,” Murtagh told him as calmly as he could.

“Then maybe we aren’t meant to be friends,” Eragon said and shrugged.

“Finally you’re getting it. Now get out,” the hazel eyed man said and nodded towards the still half-open door.

“Maybe we’re meant to be more,” the brunet said calmly.

The thought tempted him, Murtagh wouldn’t deny that. He couldn’t deny that. But he still wasn’t going to let it happen.

“Or maybe we’re just not meant to be anything at all,” Murtagh said and stalked over to the door, throwing it open with enough force to make it bounce upon hitting the wall. He gestured for Eragon to leave, but the brunet made no move to do so.

Murtagh stalked forward angrily and grabbed a handful of Eragon’s shirt. He glared down at him. “Don’t make me hurt you,” he hissed into the brunet’s ear.

Eragon just leaned up when Murtagh pulled away and kissed him again. Murtagh broke the contact as swiftly as it had been made and sneered. “Don’t.”

Eragon wouldn’t listen. Murtagh let go, but the brunet simply threw his arms around his neck and dragged him down for another kiss. Murtagh grasped onto Eragon’s shoulders and tore him away.

“You don’t know who you’re dealing with,” Murtagh warned him. “Leave!”

“I know that you care about me, and I know you’re attracted to me,” Eragon said and tilted his head slightly.

“And how do you know that?” Murtagh sneered.

“You’re hard,” Eragon said bluntly. “You were the last time too. Not much, but enough.”

Strangely enough Murtagh didn’t feel embarrassed. He simply growled angrily and pushed Eragon away.

“So? I want you to leave, and you should respect my wishes,” the darker brunet said darkly.

“No,” Eragon said firmly. “You don’t respect mine, so why should I?”

Murtagh just glared at him. He sat down on his bed and buried his face in his hands. He hissed when he felt Eragon stop in front of him.

No one did anything for a few minutes. Murtagh’s grasp tightened with time, but he didn’t even wince when he felt his nails dig painfully into his scalp. He nearly flinched back when he felt Eragon place both of his hands on his shoulders. Eragon tightened his grip until Murtagh looked up, ready to snarl at the younger teen again.

Before Murtagh could speak, Eragon sat himself down in his lap and kissed him furiously. This time Murtagh didn’t bother to hold himself back. He leaned back until his back hit the mattress before rolling them over, hovering over the brunet as he kissed him harshly enough to bruise them both. And Eragon let him.

Before long, their clothes were being thrown everywhere, and their kissing still hadn’t softened. Murtagh bit down on Eragon’s shoulder, and the brunet moaned. Eragon’s hands were digging painfully into Murtagh’s back, creating long, angry red lines, but neither cared.

Murtagh palmed the younger harshly, though not as harshly as he was still kissing him. The other hand started to almost gently prepare him.

A few minutes later, Murtagh was pushing in and Eragon was screaming. “Get the fuck in, I’m not gonna break!”

Murtagh snorted and slammed home. Eragon screamed. They set up a harsh rhythm; Murtagh slamming in and Eragon slamming down. Eragon’s legs squeezed Murtagh tighter as the older continued to bite and suck on his neck. Eragon’s hands didn’t cease clutching onto Murtagh’s back. The hazel eyed man clutched down hard on Eragon’s hips in answer.

The bed creaked in protest under them, though neither headed its call. Their grunts, moans and groans simply blocked out all other sounds.

Murtagh grunted as Eragon clamped down, screaming as he climaxed. He groaned loudly as he too reached his peak. A few seconds later he fell down, his arms no longer being able to support him.

Their pants echoed softly as they tried to regain their breath. For a while neither spoke.

“You annoy me,” Murtagh growled.

Eragon laughed bitterly. “Likewise.”

“How did this happen?”

“I guess you stopped being in denial, even if I suspect you’re going to crawl right back into that cosy little hole in a minute,” Eragon replied.

Murtagh started to laugh. He saw Eragon stare at him like he had gone crazy. Murtagh pulled back slightly, and seeing as they were still connected, slammed back in. Eragon groaned softly.

“This hole?” Murtagh leered.

Suddenly understanding the joke, Eragon began to laugh hysterically. “Pervert.”

Murtagh let the comment slide. He pulled out and pushed himself to lie beside the brunet.

“Are you going to leave me alone now?” he asked bitterly.

“No,” Eragon replied as he sat up.

Murtagh groaned. “Eragon, we can’t -”

“Can’t you just shut up for a minute?!” Eragon asked harshly.

Murtagh pushed himself to lean on his elbows and raised an eyebrow. Eragon glared at him before he continued.

“You don’t want to lose me; I don’t want to lose you. So why the fuck are you pushing me away? That means losing me, you know,” he said dryly.

“Better now that later,” Murtagh explained.

“...You think you’ll lose me later?” Eragon asked.

“Yeah. You’re going to head back to...wherever later. I’m just saving the both of us the hurt of being separated again. Because if it hurt you even only a tiny percentage of how it hurt me the last time, then I don’t want that to happen again,” Murtagh said and looked away.

Eragon let out a soft laugh. “Did you honestly think that when I’ve finally found you, I’ll let you go just like that?”

Murtagh frowned. “Don’t you have family back home?”

“None that’ll keep me there forever,” Eragon replied honestly.

“What are you saying?” Murtagh asked quietly.

“That I’m going to stick around here until I’ve finished my degree. What happens later depends on where my chosen career, heart, friends and/or loved ones take me,” the brunet answered with a soft smile.

“...If I’m one of those, you’re making a mistake,” the hazel eyed man stated dryly.

“Then let me,” Eragon said and tilted his head. “Besides, some mistakes can later prove to be the best decisions in your life.”

“Hey, when did I agree to be a part of this?” Murtagh asked.

“The moment you slept with me,” Eragon said then and smirked.

Murtagh rolled his eyes.

“So?” Eragon asked hopefully.

Murtagh sighed. He snorted and pulled the other to him. Eragon let out a surprised squeak, something Murtagh filed away to tease him about later, and fell down on top of the older male.

“I’ll blame you if we split up after driving each other crazy and/or killing one another,” Murtagh told him dryly.

The smile that lit up Eragon’s face was worth throwing away his beliefs. For a moment Murtagh could recognize the small boy that had befriended him and captured his heart. Then Eragon of course had to ruin it by leaning down to kiss him.

Murtagh sighed and rolled them over. And for once, the contact remained gentle.

\----

“MURTAGH!!”

Said male groaned in answer and stumbled out of the bedroom. He walked over to the door and leaned onto it. “ _What_?!”

“Get the hell out here and show yourself!” Thorn yelled angrily. “It’s been nearly two weeks!! Grow some balls, for fucks sake!”

Murtagh snorted. He pulled back the chain and opened the door. Thorn nearly fell forward in surprise. Beside him he could see Nasuada and Arya. Murtagh smirked inwardly when they all seemed surprised that he had answered, and perhaps even more surprised that he had answered wearing nothing but a pair of pyjama pants.

“What?” he repeated.

“...You’re still in bed?” Arya asked suspiciously.

“Long night, I couldn’t sleep,” Murtagh stated dryly.

“Guilt eating you up from the inside?” Thorn drawled.

Murtagh smirked. “Not exactly.”

He was even more pleased when he noticed that this confused them more.

“Whatever, you need to get your head out of your goddamn ass, and -”

“And what?” Murtagh interrupted, not even bothered the slightest by Thorn’s glare. “Let me guess, talk to Eragon?”

“YES!” the three people before him half-yelled.

“Guys, keep it down, I have company,” Murtagh said and winced.

“...Murtagh,” Thorn growled angrily.

“That’s what kept you up?” Nasuada asked disapprovingly.

“Oh sure, look at me like I’m the bad guy!” Murtagh said and rolled his eyes. “He jumped me!”

“Murtagh,” Thorn’s voice rose.

“You should all be happy with me, I took your bloody advice,” Murtagh said before Thorn could continue. “But I’m still not happy, you know. The kid has yet to convince me that this is a good idea.”

He nearly laughed when his three friends proceeded to look even more confused.

“Murtagh, who is it?” Eragon called out.

Murtagh smirked. “Just my personal guilt brigade,” he replied.

“Tell them to come back later! They can yell at you then,” Eragon called back.

“You heard Eragon,” Murtagh said mock-happily. “Yell at me all you want later. Though, I’m not sure what you’re going to use against me then.”

And with that he closed the door in his friends’ faces. He let a small snigger escape his lips as he locked the door and walked back to his bedroom.

“...Did you mean what you said?” Eragon asked as he returned to the bed.

“About what?” Murtagh asked.

“That I haven’t fully convinced you?” the brunet said and sighed in content when Murtagh slid back in and spooned behind him.

“I meant it,” Murtagh murmured. “You’ve just convinced me to give it a shot.”

Eragon smiled softly. “At least I’m half-way there.”

Murtagh just chuckled.

“I think that some good night’s sleep really did you good,” Eragon said and raised his eyebrows. “You’re laughing.”

“Well, it’s easier to let my guard down around you,” Murtagh said softly.

The brunet blushed slightly and looked away.

Murtagh sighed and buried his head in Eragon’s neck. He frowned and gathered the necessary courage.

“Eragon?” the younger male hummed in answer. “Are you mad at me for never trying to contact you?”

Eragon stayed silent for a small while. “A little, but not enough to hold a grudge. No, if I’m mad at you for anything, then it is for trying to push me away.”

Murtagh sighed in relief.

“Why, don’t tell me you were worried?”

“A little,” Murtagh admitted. “And now shut up.”

Eragon proceeded to laugh. Murtagh nibbled his neck in warning, but Eragon only continued to laugh.

“Alright, you asked for it!” Murtagh stated and rolled over on top of him. Eragon let out a loud shriek, one Murtagh knew he would deny later, and finally managed to stop laughing when his mouth became otherwise preoccupied.


End file.
